It feels good to let go. But then when I think about it, I can’t. There’s not a world out there for me, only guarantees of loneliness and spells of self-loathing. I was put here as a result of a universal accident; I belong in a galaxy where the things in my head don’t kill me from the inside out. You’re a parasite, the memory of you lingering around and eating away at my insides. You’re a fire that doesn’t go out and soon I’ll be burnt up and scattered around like pollen making kids sneeze somewhere. I haven’t let go. I haven’t let go because you have hooks in my teeth and if I look in another direction they’ll fall out of my head.
I know what I was on
I’m kind of nothing but one big fuck up