I've got this
hate machine
inside of me.
I built it out of broken dreams
and it runs on what ifs,
could've beens,
would've beens,
and should've beens.
Its fumes
are so poignant.

you fuel it
with your lies
and your smirk
your ******* smirk.
I hate you.
What if you stuck around?
It would have been so good,
it could have been so good.
Who am I kidding,
it should've stayed a dream.

looking around
in the room
she flashes her teeth
and winks to the crowd.

the pursuit of happiness
is a rough one
every boulevard covered
with pastel-shaded
houses.

nothing is real
no nature, no oceans, no sky
everything is just
tinsel smiles and plastic kisses,
just ikea boxes pinned to the walls
for decoration.

you're like the nettles
in my backyard
like the sting
of a wasp
you're like the bayonet
at the end of a rifle
using my own weapon
against me.

she had a voice
like a lullaby.
no one could tell me
to get out
after so many years
after so many struggles
after so many fights
after so much love
in such a beautiful way.

all i want out of my life
is tons of adventures
to look back on.

all i do with my life
is sit in class after class
office after office
with nothing to look back on.

passing by on the streets
talking
cracking the same jokes.
but it's not the same.
it'll never be the same.

it feels like
the only thing connecting us
these days
is my ****.