The street is so much simpler.
Than normal life.
And I'd like to be back there.
Adrift in boredom.
Divine in my lack of a life.
And oh it makes much more sense.
To just.
Live for right now.
Eating my way out of the trash.
And.
My romantic nostalgia.
Eating at me.
In these banal suicidal days.

I should embrace.
This falling apart.
Crumble into death.
And.
Blissful.
Abnegation.