Vices hold me in a grip
living is a ****** up game,
I mash buttons until I bend and flip
breakdown, take another hit:
I’ve relinquished my prime of life
wishing it was someone else’s fault
that I’m stranded on this island,
this is why I succumb to vices

It started as a wild ride
that turned into the spins
a religion of motion sickness,
wanting to stop but always caving in
it spirals through my mind
filling damage to the brim
emotions are meant to process here,
now they only dissipate in chagrin
as rueful ignorance catapults
this living hell to greater heights
without having to lift a finger:
my self-inflicted violence,
a byproduct of vices

Left with no rationale to care,
only a small bend in time where
my spindle came undone;
it's here I revel in self-despair
as a loser who
always failed to listen,
a captain without a vision
ready to drown in cognitive dissonance
because it’s easier to believe a lie
than to accept how life is:
where are my vices?