Psychoactive,
More active than your passive hashtags
I'm acting like passion's lacking in these masses
No more than attractive caskets
Really just static traffic, molasses,
Fashion classes? You're wearing classic ashes.

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust
This *****.
Unstuck, this one's luck has run amok,
Adjust our distrust to highlight this unjustice.
I'm just one among us.

Us and them. Red and blue. White and black.
We're all dead, just lay me on the mat.
There's chitchat tryin' to get at where I'm at
And why I'm there.
It's riffraff.
I'm just kicking back.

Thermoplastic acrylic acid scent suspended in my sinuses
And red splatter on my glasses
Camel Turkish golds in my lungs
The way this air sits is low hung
It's impossible to make it by
Without asking why we play these games
With ourselves.
Always playing time games with ourselves.

These murals can't capture what I'm thinking
My breathing can't relay how or why I cheated this world.


I'm simply
Alone
And on top of this mountain.
Freezing, breaking the law.

To sleep and be okay is what I dream for
Longing no longer to wait out this storm
Merely content with the concept of existing
And let the world continue busy.

What I want most is to be seen
Right?
Tattoos, clothes, coffee shops.
Drifting my car in the snow
Writing in public.
Selfies.

I go on dates with pretty girls, but
They never really see me.
I haven't been seen in years.

I've had one percent good experiences
Ninetynine bad.
Scales are tipped in favor of suffering,
and yet those few times I've been seen still carry me.

Talking to <redacted> the other day was cathartic.
I miss her most of all
Even though things could never be how they were.
I don't really care about the past.
She made me happy and appeared in my dreams.

Annie is dying in my brain.
Bad politics.

I'm droning.
This is my diary, shared public for no apparent reason.
You get the **** with the gold.

Coffee with Amanda was enlightening. Brightening.
I feel chill with her.
Comfortable and excited.

We'll see if 2017 is worth living.
Sixteen at nineteen wasn't.
But I guess hope drove me through it
And Tyler.

Here's to coffee
And the pursuit of happiness.

In the tub
I'm bleeding.
My wrist is still open
And it won't stop if I keep submerging it in water.
I think that's what I want.

If I have less blood,
The NyQuil hits harder
If the blood thinners do their job
I won't clot
And I will die asleep.

That's the dream
Isn't it.

Such small arms you had
And how
Tight that sweater held you .
How
Tight
I held you,
Knowing how temporary
These moments are.

How peaceful your soft
Hair was in my face as we
Read and solved children's books.
Laughing and pointing.
Kissing.

I will never forget.