He is lost
In the sea of bodies
Sweat and sin smelling hugs
Bed sheets that were never his.
He is drowning
In the liquids he forces his body to consume
Throat slowly corroding from the drinks that burn
A shot more to being more awesome
He is confused
Why his money makes bad company at night
If his parents are any different from ATM machines
He untangles his mind with straight lines of white
*Sometimes you just have to right regardless if you’re in the mood. Partly because maybe there are people out there who wants to read what you’ve written but mostly because you need to push yourself to write because writing is a skill that needs to be constantly polished.