i can't get this image out of my head
and here's your warning,
if you're queasy, there's body horror ahead:
i can't stop picturing
pencil lead
puncturing perfect circles in skin
******
injecting into vessels
*******
on my lips like making snow angels
if i drank a whole bottle of ***** i could smash it when i'm finished
and press damage to my alcohol-infested veins
my curiosity is piqued at the
sight of grey brains
that's a somebody, there, on that sterilized tray.
sometimes i'd like to try my hardest to just quit,
give everything up and just give in,
popping pills and pressing bruises in rock-star skin.
no one will care, just another guitar player with childhood trauma.

quit my job and blow my bank
trade in my grades to be burned at the stake
call myself a witch but i'm only a fake
taking names of all the future saints
shut up already, kid, for god's sake,
quit it with the words, you're making a mistake
but how do you remove the soul of a yesterday?