these days i wake up early and spend
all day in class learning things about
philosophy and sitting square on my
ass as i try and comprehend

the words out of this mans mouth i process
thoughts and key them into my phone while
sipping myself full of tea trying not
to pee myself or flee out of fear
i wont make it through the next break or two
reminding me (yeah myself) three
credits more and we’ll see if i can
finish this crapping degree.

i’m so tired of finding
disgusting things in the
most beautiful places
hidden in secret cavities

i can’t stand to see it
i just can’t stand to see it
this perversion makes me
want to die

in a place with a beautiful sunset
only to find the deepest destruction
behind one single cloud
that engulfs everything, eventually

and where would i find myself then?
the most profound despair
found in every smile
with less will than i have currently?

from where would
i draw inspiration for
a single breath?

These identity crisis are
viscerally minded ’till the
briny, bitter end.

Pour sugar in my drink and
salt in my wounds and
I’ll tell you which stings more

and you tell me
weather I’ve got this whole thing
backwards.

I have a funny feeling.

Could it be a crisis of
Identity?

I can not tell.

But I am optimistic.