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.....