sick.

you're a user
and i'm a loser
it's okay, you'll just have a party on your own.

by the end, your mouth feels like wool from all the yarn you've been spinning
you stumble and mumble some stranger's name
and wake up tomorrow with a sweater that doesn't fit you

i'll try to stay sane
but it's just so damn hard without motivation

the rabbit's caught in the trap
you're a sap for his velvety ears and sticky red fur
pulse spilling everywhere

you've gotten to my head
it's funny how every man is an island and a liar
you never could believe in the sandbars, they move all the damn time
and the water's too deep and far to get there

inside out, pieces of you like broken glass
he'd call it bonkers and send you home,
like a drugstore cowboy, with all of it in a bottle
i don't even know what full throttle is anymore

everything dies.
monsoon millionaire.