Four walls; a pair of cupped hands.
Jaundiced like an open eye; an open cove
Prescribing solitude to those whom solitude cannot withstand,
And I choose this cold corner which is furthest from the door,
To be where I am not, before
Your proclivities become my own, I write. I write,
My window holds my breath and frosts the world,
The moon in his amber gown, dressed in chatoyance and spite,
Godspeed; dark, dark shroud for naked skies!
Six floors, walls, doors from you am I.

I couldn't write when the sun peered in,
Her inquiry evangelizing the specks of time left upon the glass -
I've heard it all before; God's shining face leaves none unloved (unseen)
but his spotlight has no starlet; so who can see me up here?
We can't see from windows, dear.
I'd live and sing for the cloudless hall
The nursery of misanthropists crawling on the grey cobblestone
And the lilt of the wind on the rose; through squares nice and small -
The peevish moth shudders at the sight of itself obscuring the day through the glass.
It seems we're always in the way.

I can't talk
even if I could why would I?
no seriously, give me a reason.
I mean, when I'm high I can give you every reason in the world,
but in times like these, the lows, I just don't know.
It's like all of a sudden nothing matters except how beautiful the world is
and how badly I wanna **** everyone in it for ruining it.
But that's school shooter talk, my friends already think I'm suicidal, well, they know I'm suicidal.

Sometimes, well times like this, it scares me to know that most, if not all, of my happiness comes from a drug.
Not just any drug. But the most harmless drug of all time, which is illegal for some reason.
I'm not dependent though, I can live without it, I just don't think it'd be very healthy for anyone around me.
I don't want to be another liberal who ******* at society for not accepting what I'm going through and pandering to me,
but it would be nice if you did.

I mean could you imagine it? a world full of people like us.
The "bad kids", rebels without a cause, just chaotic for no reason.
The potheads, loners with the mind of stoners, shaggy and ****** almost every season
The weirdos, multiversal misanthropists with our hearts so mischeavious
The killers, scared kids who just wanna be left alone, but the world keeps ******* with us.

Weird;
first time I'm talking to you and not sounding like a love sick puppy.

I mean everyday I get closer to the voice in my head, the good one, the one who wants me to **** myself
and I can feel myself getting closer to that state of **** it, where I actually do it and take a classroom with me
guess that's why I've been typing this whole thing with my middle fingers.
but I'm not that evil...
...yet.