There’s a box in there half empty of what’s left of me.
The thing is, I’ve already given up on the world and realized I can’t change it.
Ninety-nine percent of people alive will die without ever looking at the sky,
and I mean really look at the sky like it’s something you need to survive.
I have forgotten every one who has strived to make a difference,
because their differences have been lost in a swamp full of fifty percent offs and vampires.
People are dead because of what they believed when you and your son will die in a bed watching Oprah.
But oh god forgive me please, for I have forgotten that money grows on trees,
and those tits make me weak at the knees while her mouth screams
baby please I need this dress to look fuckable and a black man on a stand is worth standing on your head for.
Remember when your mom said everyone was different but we’re all the same?
Your mom was a bitch, she lied. I remember how she cried before I killed her than went to jail and back to do it again.
This ring on my finger pronounces faith so I cut it off and put it in this box before I blew my brains out over the wall and they called it art.
I think everyone who has ever water skiid should go to hell.