The empire of youth turned its back on you, but you found yourself smoking some shit for no reason. Rotten fish and sparkling water as you would write “fuck” all over the walls and beg for someone to take you for some bedtime pleasure you don’t even want.
Ask yourself a few questions, like when was the last time you didn’t treat your genitals like hot potatoes, begging for hunger, some ambition or desire.
Sadly, not even a sad memory will come around to save you. Not even a murderer, not death itself.
You always make us wonder why you smile even when you’re described as a series of screw-ups, as the unwanted visitor, as the pitiful creature. Strength granted from fear and joy granted from misery.
…How come you never escape from inside of us?