I've realized that I rely on "things"
such as pills,
to get me through the daze.
Weather it's the clouds in my lungs,
or the syrup that I swallow,
or even latest Salvatore novel,
I've just gotta have that "thing" to distract me from here.
Because I find this reality too much to bear.
Living vice-to-vice, couting down the years.
I just want everyone to be happy.

Self therapy.
**** rips in my kitchen.
Talking to oneself can be so productive.
Pacing back and forth with constant muttering.
I just want everyone to be happy.