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?