My mind spinning webs inside broken weaves.
My eyes full of black viscous blood.
I know no conscious, I know no filter.
Tonight?
That's alright.
I'm alone.
My head spins relentlessly on a dull point.
It's drunk poetry because it's satire of the personal self.
It's drunk poetry because tonight is the day I said no more.
the night I said,
relax... one more.
it draws me closer to a darkness I portray as the man  in the mirror.
The man that knows himself less than you think.
the boy that thinks himself less than you think
It draws me closer to being quartered by my own mind.
Relax... one more.
Relax
And that's all.
You light weight.