Pulling out my hair, I can't bare your endless drone of particular hertz.
I've been breaking all my fucking fingers waiting for a slut like WW III.
My excuse for grinding my teeth to the roots.
Water in my left, soil in my right.
Frantic, tuning out the technicalities. Do not turn on the lights, axe to your family tree.
Hyperventilating, if this is a means of pressure, my head will blow one way or another.
Watching the last of you drift down the drain. Words with no substance, vomit stains on my wrists. Ground teeth to the roots. Papercut, garbage, bullshit. Drift down the drain.
Do not fucking touch me. Do not say a thing.
Sleep deprived, what day is it?
Lying on the floor, eyes on the ceiling.
I'll sweat this out until the Fat Man lets me rest again.
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