Will I ever find out if death is as peaceful as it sounds?

Scrolling through your feed
over and over
again. Until my eyes are too
tired to focus on your face. Until my
mind starts imagining you by my side. Until my
skin feels your lips on me. Again.

Is that all there is to life?

She dreads going to sleep,
for she knows, she will wake
up to see tomorrow.
She fills her stomach up with
Red Bull and Modanfinil,
praying that one of them
will keep her eyes from
closing shut. But she knows.
She knows that no matter
how much she tries to
stretch out this wretched day,
tomorrow will come.
And she will live on.
Because she was too afraid to make it stop.

Is that all there is to life?

If I summon you like a demon
will you stay the night?

They want you
thinking you are as easy as a piece of cake. Not realizing that you are as sour as a lime, as spicy as a chili pepper.
So you **** yourself before any of them can get to you first.

You play with yourself life Tchaikovsky played the piano, to feel a certain high. To feel anything that might make you
forget the pent-up anger that you have build up for years. Those stupid souls, they will never understand, they will never know.

They want you.
It's an addiction, it's an obsession.
You can't get away.

They want you.