Craving space.
Not the distance but the place
Where galaxies exist
And stars collide
Higher than the sky
From a **** of my pipe
I Fly

****.
I hate knowing,
    KNOWING
ways to make it all better
and being simultaneously
unable to take advantage
of those socially unacceptable
escapes of mine.
I have to just be here,
plaster on
my societal face
and it's all so ******* fake.
So fake.
All I want to do is give in
to the ever-taunting whims
that are begging,
pleading for release.
It's a dangerous game,
one I know I can't afford to lose
but ****
is it fun while I'm playing
with my deadly vices.
****,
how hard it is
to say no sometimes.