I've been fine, I've been trying to get
this gun out of my mouth, I see the flowers
growing and blooming out of my spine,
but let me tell you, I need no anesthetic,
I'm so numb I can barely feel anything.

Let me scream out, these nerves pull tight
on my skin and I can't take it, I'll take
it, move, move, I'm desperate, these four
walls climb my body and I can't breathe,
I'll pass out before I start dreaming.

My muscles are heavy, my tongue can't move
and the more I stay standing the more I die inside,
can I sleep for a minute, forever? Eating is too much,
not enough, I take it back up so I feel a little, so I let go
for a while, but I've never been here, not even at the start.

Fuck this, fuck everything, I'd sell my soul
to feel anything, I swear, I'm telling you,
all these thoughts and words get tangled on my
hands and burn my tongue black, I can't stand it,
I'll fake it, alive until this life breaks me.

I'm laughing, hysteric, is this numbness a joke?
What is the point? I wake up, a routine - trace
my steps, my breaths, just count to ten, once over,
trace over last night's wounds, I'll be fine, no
one will notice, drop pounds by the minute.

You sense it, the air is stale and you ask out
of habit, paranoid and nosey: 'how're you feeling?'
You know, being rotten is as fun as it seems,
I create storms out of paper and sleep just so
I can stop existing, it's so nice, man, so nice.

I can hear you, eyes shifting, I can feel you : 'why are you
so helpless? So pathetic, I blame the system, these kids wasting
their youth away complaining, creased bedsheets filled with
unfulfilled dreams, throw a pity party and cry me a river, you
know not of struggling, you have not felt real hunger'.

But I am starving, don't you see? I'm only
skin and bones, what am I missing? Is it love?
Faith? Hope? Dreams? I have plenty, but nightmares
are more entertaining, when I can't sleep for days they
keep me company, follow me until I'm fading.

I swallow the smoke, ashes dance on my skin
and I'm burning, I wait for the screams but I'm
voiceless, my ribs crack under pressure and I'm
open, trembling, but no one can see - not the storm
in my brain, not the mad resolution in my veins.

I've been fine, I've been trying to wash the guilt
off my hands, the heavy weight of failure grips my
tongue and all I can do is whisper half truths, but
you'll take them, no questions asked, I'm okay, I'm
alright - rip out the flowers from my back.