stretched seams tried to burn myself away evading questions about my birthday or what i’ve been into lately stitches listing to a dead end always needing something or someone to cut the thread
you wake up, you’re angry the world, you resent it your moms on ozempic there’s no one to vent with the ceiling makes sense if you stare at it long enough
pin me down like a butterfly dissect me and search but all you’ll find behind my pendulum of chemical tides is more grey skies and a fabergé smile i will never be the porcelain me you have in mind
oh, the bliss that must come with the ignorance to your own actions the knives you spit with vehemence whether involuntary or by choice a deaf man could’ve felt the disappointment in your voice
you’re busy playing wordle in a ******* bathroom you’re talking to your future self inside a vacuum you only know their songs from one of the guitar hero games but you’ll wear the t-shirt all the same