Rusted spoon on the palm.
Reused rig in a flexed bend.
Eyes sealed as the body rides the waves to numb.
Exploring in a black hole until the E.M.T.s Narcan the rested soul.
Awake to find friends crying as
Swin want answers, doctors question suicide and loved ones just want to know why.
Unofficial discharged on my Lambor-feeties
No shoes, no shirt and a ten dollar cab, get me back to my own hell.