it shocks me how sometimes i'm stronger
than a military-grade killing machine
and other times i'll curl up like the 'S' in my name
amounting to nothing more than a string of cheap skin
stretched limbs worth as much as gum on a sidewalk
and a brain running along the line of least resistance
of life,
together we're a helix made with layers and layers
of linked hands
of fingers plugging ears to numb the sound of à̸̛̺̟͎͈̠͇̙̼͈̜̱̙̭͖̠͚̪̯̫̗̘̟̞͓͖͛̒̄̅͒̈́̎̈̊͆̈̓̏͆̓́͘͘̚͠ͅͅn̸̛̜̆̅̎̒̍̆͐͑͆́̽͛̂͆̀̋̈͘͝͠ģ̵̢̢̢̨̲̫̺̘̣̫̣͉̤͔̬̯̯̦̰̳̜̺͎̋͋̓̾̀̈́͝e̷̗̟͉̘̥̩̳̼̬̋̓̾̐̋͆̓̐̋̂͊̉̇́͊̇̋͂̆̓̆̀̈́̌̌͐̀͜͠r̷̢͖̥̫̮̤͌̂̌̿͌̋̿͘̚̕̚͝and it's in those moments
that silence feels expensive
but i'm filthy fucking rich
so i snap! like the click of a woman's heels who just
wants to go home
she's got gunpowder trailing off her strides and
a spark,
and for once i don't give a shit if i die
from a gunshot or a slash
risen phoenix or turned to ash
cause my sight blurred up like a question mark
my writing's gone sloppy
most of my friends aren't real and i'm just used to this headache
but my resolve to reignite is packed in like the only pack of cigarettes i'd ever draw smoke from
and they're premium grade, motherfucker.
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a/n irrelevant but oscars tomorrow woooo who's excited
