i'm still the same i think.

i'm hacking and i can feel the mucous peeling off of the lining of my throat
the little hair like cilia are moving it up and down and i keep swallowing
real hard but i feel it there just lodged in, comfortable and smirking
i hack up more mucous from my lungs and it's as though there's a never ending supply
my body is vengeful i think and instead of wanting to get better
it keeps me sick and needy for anything to use as a crutch
i think my own body is keeping me from standing on it's two legs
and maybe i'm the one that's being greedy, maybe my body is right
i should just fuck off


i wish i smoked cigarettes but i don't think i'll ever start
i don't need another addiction in my life and i'm already broke as it is
but man i want to breathe with ease and feel my throat get raw
and then wait until i start to hate myself as my singing doesn't sound good
because all that smoke that made me happy is making me sad
and i've come to learn that cycles are almost always vicious


i don't want you to stretch the truth because it sounds nice
i don't want you to tell me
'i love you more than anything'
'you are my everything'
because you don't have everything and anything is a whole lot
and i think that you are a white liar with white skin and white fingernails
and a white soul that you bleach out and keep clean with denial
but actually i don't think that at all
i think i'm the liar and i even though it makes my insides churn
and my facial bone structure feel lit on fire maybe i know
that we'll always be content in our white lies
and by we'll always be content i mean
we'll always have our lies to be content in


it's 11:11 and i wish for world peace because i don't want to be selfish
it's the least i can do but what if there was world peace?
then the population would flourish out of control even more than it is now
and then we'd all be dead faster
and what about villains?
who would the wounded kids relate to and where would hollywood go?
i hope there is always evil and i am always around to be molded by it
because i don't want to be molded by happiness, it's so blind


i was still too high to listen to my mom as she talked to me about god in the car today
she went to go see her white wizard and now she is cured and now she will cure me
and god her heart is in the right place but i want to figure it all out for myself
she's never had bad intentions and i watch as she slips in and out of serious belief
of all different types of things and i admire her and watch her learn and soak it in
and regurgitate it to me but then i feel nauseous just thinking about it.
and the god she believes in is the god in all of us, our higher self and hey i think that's
great but i get high every day mom, my higher self has her head in the clouds and
is just waiting until the next time her boyfriend will stick his tongue between her legs
and what a great life my higher self is leading, not to mention that food is heaven
and connor's mouth is my lord and savior but i'm just a grimy little fuck


i just have so much guilt piled up inside me, i think that's what it is
it just sits inside me and decays and it slimes and bubbles like heated rotted flesh
and erodes at my linings and jumbles up the receptors in my brain and i want
to be diagnosed as highly dysfunctional because watch me as i approach tasks
A, B, and C and then watch as anxiety floods my system and i am paralyzed and
listen as my guilt bubbles and pops and releases a horrible smell that smells
like perspiration but i know better than that


i don't think anything will ever be good enough
i found drugs and i don't want to go back
i want an acid sky and i want acid rain and i want
cotton candy clouds and neon stars and space that
is open and wide enough to be a vortex to swallow me whole