Shocking similarities of today, pull the trigger.
Flashbacks of my days spent here yesterday.
I'm lost in the wrong place at the wrong time.
If you were here and they were gone.

Guess I'm parasitic by nature, I'll find my way back to you.
Long after the maggots got the best of me.

I've seen what happens
after all of this.
Desolate, perpetual darkness.
With a sea of fog and nameless voices of people I used to be.
Directional guidelines for my final adventure.

Four minutes felt like fourty years.
And to be fair, I'm annoyed the nurses woke me up.

It was nice, speaking with you again.
Even if you told me to go back home.
To which I came.
Ironic though, you were my first home.

I'd rather not play;
my royal flush in
Pitty party poker.

Like a subordinate subboxin user.
Apparent cleanliness, washed out by legal addiction dysphoria.

Keep swimming.
It's easy to be king
of ttash mountain.
Just ask the president.

I've seen those on their third
chance.
Chastise those in the same shallow waters. They once called home.

Denial is one hell of a drug.
And it's legal.

I'd rather be in isolation station.
For, living is worse than dying.
In my eyes, I'm just looking for a shade of grey.

I hope you suffer,
wounds deeper than
emotional scars beneath the dermal layer.

You're truely not worth the air,
you consume.
A zealot. Heretic turned holy.
An abomination hiding behind closet alcoholism.

I'd hate to be your  liver.

Benadryl and chill.
Anti hystamine dreaming.
Pre meditated drug dealing.

Over inflateted egos.
Boys with Legos
for brains.

Hussling at gas station.
Sending little paper parcels
to wide doe eyes.

Getting high is more fun, anyways.
Most days,
I'd rather play pretend.

Sometimes you just feel so
zombie esque it hurts to breathe.
The twitches
of a witch's
evil eye.

Mirages,
of a former ghost.
My personalities paid host.
Posessions, demonic in blood relations.
I'm lost, in my own sea.
Dead like the one before me.

Every now and again.
The therapist will
give you the wheel.

Driving down a highway
for the ****** martyrs
of psychosis.

But whose really helping who?
Pleading incompetent to subdue the enemy.

Only for a moment.
Will I, endulge in this
depravity.

With smiles stained of the ****.
I willingly eat to stay relevant
It's decadent.

The sweetest escape.
For narcissists young and old.
Covered in paranoia. Leaking impulsivity.

Rocking the crown of thorns.
I don't know who wore it better.