Move. Like the sunshine disappears for those months
Locks himself in his room. Chatsity Belt
Yeah, the whole deal.
Syringe, Joint, Tiny packet of Powder.
Now this is what I call a season of alive.
Music vibrating the carpet lining.
If I wake up, Fuck It. I'll go again.
Now he pulls out his arm. Slapping it always works a charm!
It pinches; but only for that split second.
He forgets the pain for an instant.
Welcome to alive he giggles to himself.
Music moves. Sounds consume him.
The come down hits like a dagger. His stomach splits in half.
Reality is a morbid setting.
The outline of everything that hurts.
Line and the pain erases.
Tell me why?
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