I crave the intimacy of death's grip,
I struggle and fumble beneath life's whip..
knowing full on that something kills us all,
I can't shake this seasonal fall.
Fall, I fall, I rise and I fall..
Either to depression or the drugs to get through it all..
I'm exhausted, sleep deprived, yet plagued by dreams that kill my dreams..
I can't sleep without the pills,
I can't speak unless it kills..
I can't love unless it hurts..
...and I can't seem to find this life's worth.

I crave death's grip,
I dream of dying.
I dream of flying..
I dreamt of death by a plane that quit flying...

I'm sick of this shit..
Twenty-six years is enough.
© kxng.auteur