i have black makeup smeared around my eyelids
adding a nice value contrast
to the already present bags
and i know i look insane
and my sweatshirt sleeves are covered in teardrops
and my head ******* hurts

and coffee doesn't replace bloodcells
like i wish it would
coursing through my veins
perpetually awake
hiding from the nightmares
that have set up shop
behind my eyelids

and the moments leading up to success is pure torture
it's a lot of waiting
and quiet, violent, personal burning
effigies that i didn't even know existed
being sacrificed
coming to the slow realization
that i cannot exist as a cartoon character forever -

i must jump the page.