The Trip

I’m done
with
this shithole
today

I’m packing
up and
running
away

Far
from where
the sun
can catch me

And to where
the pleasure
of pain
distracts me

I Already Know

I already
know I’m
a piece
of shit

I don’t
need you
to remind
me of it

I already
know I’m
a bitter
old crone

I don’t need
you pointing
out that I’ll
forever be alone

I already
know my
cuts are
too deep

I don’t
need you
to watch
them weep

I already
know that
I’m dead
inside

I don’t need
you telling me
there’s nowhere
left to hide

Happier

Perhaps we’d
have been
happier
as strangers,

For never
having met.

Perhaps we’d
have been
happier
as strangers,

With nothing
to regret.

How Are You?

It’s easier to say I’m alright, rather then I’m anxious.

It’s easier to say I’m okay, rather than I’m outraged.

It’s easier to say I’m better, rather than I’m broken.

It’s easier to say I’m good, rather than I’m grieving.

It’s easier to say I’m well, rather than I’m wasted.

It’s easier to say I’m fine, rather than I’m fucked.

At All

I reach
for your hand,
but it’s not there,
and further into
the abyss
I fall.

I search
for your face,
but no one cares,
and it’s like you
were never here
at all.

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