I'm kind of like neon darkness.

Black is the new
everything
&
everyone,
shares the same

lucid,
translucent,
illuminate

dead-day-dreams.

Sorry, for
spiking the punch.
But it isn't a party
until someone passes out.

Find the weakest link.
**** em' up
&
leave them behind
to die.

Dried up
on the side of the
road.

A hit & run
on the highway home.

Sometimes, you have to
strip

down,
down,
down.

to the
lowest
of
places
just to break yourself even.
</3

**** gets better.
<3

Quicksand
and those sketchy  
day dreams.
Are
dragging me
down river.

To Go.

Drunk dancing
at the
Devil's beat.

</3
As I lay,
here.

Drowning,
in all your liquid lies.
With my right hand
above water.

Of course.

Every fallen angel,
sides down the slippery
stripped-strip,
strippers pole.

Onto,
darker day dreams
of swimming,
singing
&
swing-dancing
with Lucy.

Tap-tap-tap
dancing
with the
Fairy Master
Lucipher,
himself.

Sometimes people are just misunderstood.

Until then,
I'm going to keep driving
in the
darkness
until the sun rises
and brings me light.
So
I can see
through all this
bull-****
traffic.
So I can find
my way home.
Either way,
one day.
Someday,
that's a nice thought.
It's going to happen.

A. terrible
T.oday.
M.akes for a
    tolerable.
    Tomorrow.

So fill,
your
hollow-heart;
up with anything
you can find.

Wake up,
take the pills.

Dumb-ing myself
down.
Because apparently
I "need" to chill
& numb the **** out.

I'm raising my
punch glass
and
screaming cheers
for
survival.

I'm just so-******'
numbing myself
over.

</3
Until
it's my
time
to shine.
in the
sun.
<3

It'll rise, soon enough.

Imma keep
screamin' at these
brick walls.

All day.
Every day.

While my clock is still
    tick
    tick
    tick-ing
.
I will be
all black
&
nothing more.

Until they
bury me underneath
the fresh black
****.
Soiled,
wet dreams
&
nightmare realities.

Of a life
that starts
later.

For now,
I am
only
One wing out the cocoon.

Home has
never ever been the same.
Since,
your soul went away
to
some place better.

Hey Mama,
it's
been
a hot-hot
couple of years
spent
burning in hell.
Here,
without you.

Do you
Remember,
the days of yesterday
&
all of the seconds
we
blocked out,
blacked out,
&
burned out
on every
dream we had.

I Still got
that grocery list
you wrote me
&
when I have the $.
I'll buy myself out of this

I'm coming home,
the second
my
clock stops.

Promise.

I'm just trying not to feel the need
to ***** myself.

Over & Out
Of the
Poor White Trash Society
class-classy.

I am very much so.
Not my fault.
You think Imma
*****-worth-less
than you.

That's the
Price of being Pretty.

Some "people" are just praying .

That you will play pretend *******
with them,
for the right price.
Of course,
money is alway$ the motive.

So he'll
Flash dat Ca$h
& Dem bling-bling-ring$.

Prayin' he can afford to
Pay, people to pitty play up
on him.

But I don't play or put out.
Anymore.

I am not a *******.
$ can't win me over.

You can find someone else
to drink with
or
experiment with.
Whatever you call it.

I'm just going to coast
it riding as the

6th wheel.

Till hell freezes over.
Then can I,
crash,
burn,
& fall
all the way down
the

6th route

till I hit
the

6th exit.

That will
Bring
me
Back into your arms, again.