Fake smile
Dried eyes
Scratched wrists
Bruised thighs

White pills
Rope tied
Gun loaded
*Suicide

Can't focus
Can't cope
Thoughts blow your mind
A gun blows mine

I've learned that happiness
cannot be found in the form of a little
purple capsule.
I've learned that Pisa will have to wait until next time.
I've learned that the third mushroom
held in my sweaty palm was not as
big a deal compared to the other two opening my mind.
I've learned that a part of me
died that night where we ****** in a
room with no furniture.
I've learned that life is work and that
the molotov cocktail of Dubrah and eay mac
that came spewing from me left an orange tang
upon the floor.
I've learned that pain is better than numbness
and that jabbing a sewing needle repeatedly in my arm
was an educated decision.
Most importantly I've learned that together we are better than alone.

Aspirin sticks deep, hot in my throat
while I choke it down, up I cough,
speedily burning up all my thoughts
into the power of steam and smoke!

Pulling at hair, I must retract all I wrote,
all these scowls, and these scoffs,
the running, the running, and pushing off,
that came with the want to sow my oats

The pain, oh the burn that taunts my head--
for I took my trust from your hand,
now I am awake, with regrets, in bed,
for not seeing you--at once--as an awful man.