Lines blend together,
words, stories, pass by in a blur.
Nothing seems to make sense,
not anymore.

Stringing my nonsense into something intelligible,
something to make sense.
Of all the muffled scrambles of things,
and objects out of time,
fixing things into places,
lost memories of strangers in my mind.

Overwhelmed by the presence of choice,
with more and more red crosses,
lacking of not, and not checks,
why can't I get anything right?
This difficulty to remember,
to know what is real,
and what is not.
It troubles me, most deeply.

Enjoy the concord melodies,
these dissonant sounds.
Limbs torn at the hem,
brains splattered from the insides out,
leaving myself to the point of no return.

Smog fills my lungs,
its taste is rough on the edges,
not smooth around my innards.
I rather savour the bitterness of heartbreak,
then experience the cruelty of losing you,
time and time again.

As I choke on liquid plastic,
feeling aspirin burning in my veins,
I can't help but question.
What's the meaning of life?
For we live only to die in the end.

Our bodies are soaked in sin,
and it's too late to swim out.
Tipsy from the thought of even thinking,
and hatred too deep into the bone.
I can't help but sink into despair,
the fruitlessness of it all.

If this is hell, so be it.
Selfish ******* deserve no mercy.
Please let me suffer, and die alone forever.