Lines go wavy,
street lights become blurs,
words slurred,
and blood spilt,
this is the life of an addict.
I crave the pink lines and the burgundy that runs down my wrists.
I crave the high to make the buzzing of flies in my subconscious to stop.
I manipulate and dictate those around me to get what I want.
But in the end, what I want is nothing at all.
So the pills go down,
the bottle goes up,
the blood flows slightly,
and I don't know if I can get up...
Jun 28, 2016
Jun 28, 2016 at 11:35 PM UTC
Lines go wavy,
street lights become blurs,
words slurred,
and blood spilt,
this is the life of an addict.
I crave the pink lines and the burgundy that runs down my wrists.
I crave the high to make the buzzing of flies in my subconscious to stop.
I manipulate and dictate those around me to get what I want.
But in the end, what I want is nothing at all.
So the pills go down,
the bottle goes up,
the blood flows slightly,
and I don't know if I can get up...
