Stripped of life, feeling trite, but no one to realize my need to dull this internal knife.  
Eternal intoxication keeps me feeling far from alright but thats better than a bleak night.
At least I get drunk off anxiety, high off my mind, I get to see stars when I realize i’m a rare kind. My heart is the only remedy, it pulsates aged wine.
One day i'll learn to be fine with accepting this molecular creation that won't mature over time.
Just become more complex...only depending on reason and rhyme to continue down this labyrinth of a life line.