music, street art, full heart.

Sometimes I can’t tell what’s real and what’s imagined. A derailed train on a rusted track, my mind on a tangent. My voice shakes and my heart skips a beat, labored breathing and I’m hearing things. Paranoid ideations. Tongue in cheek. What happens when trying to survive your own disarray causes another to lose their way? I’m a sick fuck who enjoys the berate. My love and passion is all just a symptom of my black and white thinking anyway. I will drain you of your drive and will. You are a cliff jumper, and I am the hill. You are a scientist of genius I am a chemical spill. Everyone wants me when they’re seeking a thrill. These voices between my eardrums aren’t mine, and I’ve fallen in love with them over time becayse they spit at me with the most beautiful lies. Loving me is damn near suicide. Nice to meet you, I’m borderline.