****** window screens and
Spray-painted limousines
Broken fingernails
Collecting dust in water pails
Chewed mosquito bites,
Lurking men of the night
Procession of death,
Headaches and shortness of breath
Physical or mental abuse,
Which road will you choose?
Abstinence with a keyhole of trust,
Unknown of love, engulfed in lust
Short distance and reoccurring sunsets,
a sunrise of jealously paired with eternal fret
Frustration, confusion, nothing less,
Hope is lost as you fail that test
Life mirrors’ a repetitive game
No purpose just filled with hallow halls and shame

You're sorry and it pains you to say.
     You've found solace in other people's pain. Your shoulders were made to bear weight. You've only gotten weaker due to your training of literally everything other than yourself. They can't see your fatigue, after all you're the life of the party. You don't know this, but you're their gravity. You've saved them, and everyone but you can see.
     You are a broken kingpin. You live in what's imaginary. Chess pieces to your command, instead a sacrificed king. You don't dream because that's selfish. You fell in love by circumstance. You don't think you deserve this, you think you're worthless. So do those songs that scream the same sentiment- good thing you're eclectic.
     Intermediate stage of life and you believe you understand the end. Peer into their future, pity their misfortune, manifest your worth in their misguided action.
     "No, you need to do this."
     Show them how. They don't listen. Revert again, lend a hand, upon seeing their inept expressions. You suggest to restart another fictional world you can all escape in. The prophet dictates another prediction: "We'll be here again."

Tin’s in the shed
So is Auntie who drinks too much.
I often wonder, who’ll go first—
Mary Jane or the boy next door.

The sky was shedding tears yesterday,
Who died? Or rather, who didn’t?
Music rhythm swaying kids in the clubs
And overdoses treated as criminal thefts

There’s a crab cake on the table,
Don’t know what it’s for anymore.
No one’s left to eat, no one’s left to eat
And I’m stuck in utter agravity.

These lungs we share, saturated with
Drugs trying to revive,
And drugs trying to pitch overboard
I wanna just lay down and

Forget the stars
Forget the moon
Forget the seven billion souls

Cursed pits under eyes of
Grey scaled photos to hide
Paintings of blacked blue
Look, there’s God standing over all

Saying nothing, saying nothing.
See any miracle? huh, neither do I
Cause I’m not sure whether direct opposition or
Indirect consultation ever shaves away Alex’s eyebrows.

There isn’t an ounce of bread left
To feed those seven billion souls, isn’t that
Right? Cause waste from hearth is worth
Less than their left pinky.

**** tired of this mess
We livin’ in a cupboard, in
A kitchen full of paper thumbs and
Punctured eyes.