security! security! (and now we both go under...)

fri. may 02 '25 

normally i have to pay to panic like this.

my mind is an ocean and i'm on a sinking ship. the water is ice cold and the engineers are working undertime. shoveling coal into boilers to power a tongue that hardly works.

and i can see the lighthouse in the distance. so pull me in before i can back out. 

the whole coastline sleeps when you do and i'm left to drown. 

my lips taste like salt, my skin feels like ice. my daydreams are all of self-helplessness and all i do is put the same words in a different font.  

they can measure my failure in miles

oh, but they pay us to watch us die