____________
Tits on a man

-

I'm running on empty.
Falling again.
I'm bringing me down,
and I can't seem to stop.

Clawing at air.
Eating my tongue.

Swallow.

It hurts to think.
Hurts to feel.
It's pain to be.

ACCEPT.

Breaking my rules;
and whining again.
Depression fueled by consistent feelings of uselessness.
These words mean nothing to those burdened with their own troubles.

So,
why whine?
Why complain at all?
What's the fucking point?
Masturbation.
I'll make myself feel good until I fucking explode.

...
and then....?

Then I'll feel empty again... . . . . .