I'm frustrated.
And.
Scared of tomorrow.
Cause it never turns out.
Like.
I want it to.
It just keeps keepin on.
While my head slowly
constricts itself into a
mad obsession with stuck.

I'll stop all this.
One day.
When I can't take it anymore.
My illness in isolation.
The constant disappointment.
Feverish frustration crushing my mind.
Into amorphous paste.
And, it won't matter.
Never did.