i'm balancing a knife on tips of my palm
whose life should i take
my brain's fried
it's too late
delving deeper into the fantasies
sometimes i wish
to give up
on me
the seven percent cocaine solution
is helping me immensely
to dream fluidly
oh fuck
my utopian world is a shattered
kaleidoscope of 11:11s
tinged with
futility
drowning in the neon lights
fazed by its false beauty
i'm comfortably
numb
