Glamour cuts
Are not comparable to love
And
Silver isnt sweet.

I spend entire nights awake,
Smoking res and trying not to choke
I swear to god I'm smoking cinders
From my suicide notes
Hearing voices, seeing God
Blowing pictures out of smoke
Sailing from my conscience
In an ash-made boat

Candle-lit it feels nice
Nights
Start to lace themselves with
Cyanide-
Another boy,
Another bed
But jesus ****
The first is still stuck in my head.

Midnight talks,
Spinning words like
Wheels burned out on pavement.

Colours pop
And seep too far into my head
Nauseous blues and greens and reds
Tangle thought
And sit in my stomach like lead

Kids these days-
We smoke our dreams
So out of touch when it comes to reality,
Set up by machines
And cheap manufactured mortality
Tightened at the seams
To choke out thought and what it means,
Shut up, **** up.
Just sit back and hit that green.

”Tell me how you feel,”*
And I didn't say a thing.