d r o w n I n g

because he isn't coming back, no
he isn't coming back at fucking all…
punch the mirror until the glass shatters
into red shards and your hands ache. let
the pain trade you a sick twist of euphoria
for the last choke of a high-on-nicotine
because it's not the same when your head's
underwater. so help you god, whatever you do


live off alcohol and cigarettes and self-destruction
for three days like a good little go ask alice and
throw up in the alleyway behind the funeral home,
then blame it on the knife cutting open your insides
from the out in the bathroom (hijack the stall into a 9/11
of hallucinations) and hope that the toilet bowl
swallows your


try to remember how to

b r e a t h e

... no one understands why it'ssofuckinghard
because it's not the same when your head breaks the