Sometimes I feel as if I’m
contently slipping off the edge of sanity,
like my life is an infinite syringe;
an overdose of heroin
that I never seem too come down from,
but sink lower-
down into the carpet
like that one scene in trainspotting
times a billion.
My smile is far from bulletproof anymore,
and I hope none of you can see
all the way through
to the very darkest parts
because I’m afraid they’ll pull you in.
I swear sometimes my heart
is a black hole of the world’s worst fears,
and I think it will someday
result in premature flowers on my headstone,
but in my head
I died a long, long time ago.