I don't know bottles comfortable stagger its rewinds forgotten pain.... pollution of my veins now seems futile tense heartache chisels truth... nicotine and ashes cloud the space I only visit on occasion.... headstones see my lies better than catholic crosses.... like a pornographic life I see it all uncensored and coldly explicit... mental illness becomes far to clear thru self medicated tolerance... a slam poetry intervention shines a spotlight on my failures... I don't like the lifestyle or to be nested in hipster categories... insane logic or a genious with dyslexia can be pointed at me blindly... it really dosent matter if pain receptors became weak it was only a defense.... but in a science of space and matter... just give me some space and I promise you wont matter.....