When I asked you what I should do. you told me...
"Yeah, I guess it would make sense to end it now."
I could feel a crippling cold in my lungs mid summer
my heart is no stranger to a strangers lack of care.
It's just a summer ******.

At least when left alone, let alone the thought of being lonely, I never consider taking my own life before its meant to be taken from me.

At least when I talk to you, you remind me like your reliquary for lost tears, you tear through me unraveling my armor to all my inner most fears.

Giving myself a gift of agony inside of antagonizing images of my self.
Ambition and bravery give way to craven humility. disguising howls towards the moon as laughter laughed to soon. I dug my grave today just to give prayer to the future,

I piece myself back together with my words like a surgeon who's done this a thousand times.

He who is practiced in the way of emotion suture

His hands never getting steadier operating on the child inside him with his rhymes.

It never gets any easier
it only gets worse.
After all,
how can you do your job,
when you run out of thread
and there's a thundering in your head.

When you've got twenty-five to thirty for life to become death.
You kind of want to be in control of your last breath