Apocalypse

Are you drunk?

No, I'm just a poet

With a knife in your hand

And a cigarette between your lips

Going back to 505

To try to make art

Worrying about being nobody

Once again I have to speak or die in my hands

I want to believe that I have achieved something

And I remember the sleepless night

Let it happen counting each star

Missing something again

I need to believe in something again

Do you think three days are enough?

Because no one is patient with me

Maybe it will work if I get sick again

I'll do that, I think I've got it!

Carry all this broken bone

Bring it closer to hell

Turn up the volume on my headphones

If you are, I would stay all night

I need another drink of coffee

I love to play with putting something together

Just to destroy everything

Like everything I write

Like everything I think

Like everything I paint

Don't go away, I have a few days to live

Maybe all my life I will live in ataraxia

I just want to see them again

Cry in silence, suffer in claustrophobia

Somewhere at the end of time

call me by your name

I will call you for mine

Written by a fucked up hand

Composed by a lost mind

In sugar and caffeine

That's the concept of always being incomplete.

Overdose until I get sick

Because I love pain

I still feel the oblivion in my chest

Speak or die?

I've always been a coward

Why are you calling me so late?

Someone please tell me

Why the hell am I going this way?

I think there is no remedy

Why do you only call me when I'm/are high?

What the fuck is wrong with me?

Opening my heart in a closed space is the solution

Because I'm a fucking poet

Because I hear my agony in every letter

If we talk about speaking or dying, I prefer to die

And I just want to see the sun rise with you.

-Burn!