Whatever I can be is what I can't see,
And the ground under my toes feels like sand,
When it really should be a bed,
This is not where I want to be.

I ******* hate sinking and it's all happening so fast,
The voices inside my mind are getting louder,
But I'm scared to ask for help cause I'm close,
To the end of the river and the beginning of the sea.

Hit me in the face,
Snap my neck to look at my shoulder blades,
Split my gut like I've been laughing too much,
Five days a week I'm consumed and for the next,
I'm a ******* mess of inky hands and broken lightbulbs.

Now what I can be is what's in the sea,
I just need to dip my toes,
Keep my eyes down the sights,
There's not a lot of hope inside the head,
Where the drama king resides with a tethered leash.