The skies are laced with narcotics,
I am spinning, spinning out of control,
Lost in the vastness of the milky way.
I feel the nicotine rush with every breath.
I am a broken record, that you still listen to, over, and over, and over again.
I am your aesthetic, your cure.
But what you don’t see is the typewriter clatter in my brain.
You don’t see the scrawled handwriting of who I used to be,
You see a staged version of me. I select the nicest light for viewing.

The skies are laced with narcotics,
I am spinning, spinning perfectly in control.
Clutching the wheel for dear life, drowning in my eternal darkness.
Not even the stars light my night sky, not even the sun lights my days.
Just the light of a match, that ignites and falters all in one motion.
A burst of brightness in my otherwise dismal life.
You cannot see the darkness because you are the match.

You are a fleeting moment of beauty,
Painted on a celestial canvas,
My hands the brush and your skin the paint that we use to dot eternity.
Your eyes are my stars, two gleaming orbs of pure ecstasy.
As I peer into them my darkness is reflected
I look further and all I see is the haze of politics and cigarette smoke.

The skies are laced with narcotics
I am spinning, spinning out of control,
Lost within my own emotions.
I am your poison, your cancer.
My eyes are clouded judgment and disapproval.
You are the apple in my clouded judgment and my disapproval.
You are my aesthetic, my cure.

The skies are laced with narcotics,
I am spinning, spinning out of control,
Lost in the vastness of your eyes.
And I am unable to calculate our next move.
Unable to plot when we shall return to one another.

For, I am floating down a path,
Not the one of least resistance, but one filled with obstacles.
I am not neat, I am not pretty. The inside of my head is a thunderstorm.
My thoughts mere raindrops and my emotions rolling thunder,
Because of these things I cannot commit myself to you.
Because of these things I am lost.

The skies are laced with narcotics
I am addicted.

I am trapped, deep within the walls of my own subconscious.
I mortared brick with dark thoughts and built an unconquerable wall of self-loathing.
I am free, but only for a fleeting moment.
I fall into the vastness of my own space-time-whatever-the-**** and I am lost.
I am trapped, deep within the walls of my own subconscious.
I laid brick made from all the happy thoughts of my past, and I mortared the wall with the reality that nothing will ever be that way again.
I am trapped in a room, with liquid matter rising, attempting to drown myself in all that actually matters.
I am trapped in a room braiding a noose from all the words that I said; I attach it at the beginning of time and I try to outrun myself.
My leash is too short and I stumble and fall, unable to escape my own dark thoughts. Unable to reach the light at the end of my metaphysical tunnel.
I am a coward unable to take my own meaningless life, because somewhere in my brain synopsis are firing, telling me that my life isn’t meaningless. That I need to live.
But why live when you can’t let anyone see inside of you.
I have built up these walls to prevent people from seeing my specious body. From hearing my voice and being lulled into a superficial sense of friendship.
I am trapped, deep within the walls of my subconscious.
I mortared brick with the thought that someone could love something like me.
Not quite human, and definitely not animal; just dangerous.
Dangerous because I cannot possibly fathom my unearthly potential.
Dangerous because love is the only beast which I fear.
I am trapped deep within the walls of my own subconscious,
I mortared brick with my most daring thoughts.
I am in love – I am a man.
I am a man and I have forgotten what I promised myself.
She tears down my walls.
And I start laying brick around the two of us.
We are trapped deep within the walls of my subconscious.
And we mortar brick with thoughts of our future.