I need a drink like hella.
To soothe my sorrow and make me mella.
I ******* hate this mind of mine
Always churning
Won't stop til I d.i.e.
Plug up my eyes
Ears
Nose
And mouth.
Trapped in the sewage of my harmful thoughts
I am sinking in ****.
Can't breathe in
Won't breathe out.
Ded.
Too rekt.
Too ****** to give one.
It's all in my head.
I'm not crazy
But i wish I was dead to the world
At the bottom of the sea.

Wake up late
Run to the bus
Finish up school
Do homework on the bus
Walk (kick, wander, jump, skip) home
The days are as simple as those 5 steps but when the night creeps In the doorway with me, arriving home at 6pm,
I feel the wollow of worthlesness
As if I am weightless
Absolutely empty.
What is my worth to this world?
Thought about it a million times.
And I am truly a nothing
But those 5 steps

Chaos.
Disarray.
Uncontrolled.
Messy.
Clutter.
Disorder.
Spilling­ thoughts...

You.

.

What I perceive may not exist,
but none the less
that perception does...

Words. They won't stop
and I'm feeling nauseous because
the words won't  stop
and my brain will not let me be until I drain it of every drop of thought, squeezed from exhausted me and they are spilled upon the pages like a crime scene and
they will not stop
until all the wrongs become right and all the ink in my veins bleeds dry.
Words. They won't stop.
I feel as though they will crawl their way up my throat and scatter themselves carelessly upon the pages if I do not write them fast enough. They haunt me with their beauty and will consume me if I let them, swallow me within their inky depths and block out the sunlight. Words. They just won't stop.