somebody tell adam he needs to focus
when I die, bury me in a pine box. no shoes, no suit, no sheets. just a not from me to my maker, that reads “am I finally free?”.
wake or die (instrumental) →
dirt (instrumental) →
dark matter (instrumental) →
I am too depressed to be funny, too funny for...
When all else fails, feed them to the wolves.
Still Sleep Walking...
The sleep merchant offers me an escape through dream breaks Wrinkles in time replace wrinkles on face Ease into liquid, that milky embrace Let the cold black moon swallow my fate Follow my feet to the creek of my youth, where ghost inhabit my memories now they’re all dressed like enemies Strange how perceptions can change when the root of the problem has always stayed the same I...
Sleep, walking again. In love with the challenge. Remove my voice box and speak with my talons. Listen intently. Intense wrestling. Torn between suicide and counting these blessings. One (little). Two (little). Three (little) death traps. Cancer in my soul again. No time to stress that. Step back, take off, no place to rest at. Things ain’t been the same since the day that my neck snapped. Bitter...
Are you pondering what I am pondering?