what is "the right timing"
how can it ever be right?
how do you choose between fight or flight?
I miss the shots I never took
even with men I know I'd never stay put for
and new friends I couldn't trust enough
I was too busy playing tough
we're all fueled on irony and caffeine
on our hopes and our dreams
I've got scar tissue support beams
in between my arteries
I'm wondering how I'm still here breathing
**** was really thick there for a while
swimming in a sea of my own bile
regurgitating *******
from past lessons I never took the time to try and learn
I shrug it off and say whatever
crimson pours from wounds I've stitched closed with clenched fists
no wonder they never closed
gotta hit that **** on the nose
it takes more than just saying no
takes more than what you're using for your thread
takes more than finding beauty in what is dead
takes more than creating something dreamy
it's cold inside my ribcage, I want it steamy
I want you to believe me
I want to break through to something
I want to breathe easy
when I take uppers it makes me dizzy
then I'll smoke cigarettes after the ****
to feel a deeper buzzing
still heavy breathing
I should go on a walk
but I stay sitting
lost track of what I was thinking
something about timing
years pass as I'm blinking
wasn't I already ******* here?