im searching for some other side
some homeless home
where im gone
means less than letting go
more of getting home

is it so bad that my thoughts are showing outloud?
soft only seems safe in concept
im more cigarette ash,
vowed to still water but a silent ****,
more of a secrets embodiment
or just a body
the more i think of it.
the more i think it probably should've been me.

whats a guilty conscience if you're never even conscious?
darling i know it's my fault
but while i sit, silent, gaudy, ornate,
i feel it forming in my stomach
i'm sorry i've never home anymore
it's just been getting difficult to face anyone

i miss our silent talks
it hurts feeling so far gone

if i die do you think hell could be my home?