i'd like to apologize to anything i've ever said i loved,
for the more horrid form of suicide which i have committed,
and am committing right this very moment,
and that is letting yourself go.

now my love means something strange
and for each diluting moment it spends in purgatory,
it feels more half-assed.

can you tell when we're chilling and smoking after the party,
and my eyes stay furrowed the whole time,
never rising to a round and even conclusion?
i think god's got me on a string
and it's attached right between my eyes,
i'm always worried about something
trying not too list too hard to the side
trying to engaging,
fun.

i'll do better next time.