Sweared it’s my last shot. Promised it was. It was the electric flow to my conduits buzz. Been left alone, shadow unfollowed me. but, I got 40 ounces that say I’ve done everything but bottle it up. Hairs falling out, play a game, (because I’m so ugly, I’m fucking shot.) Count the follicles, ‘she loves me……. she loves me-not’ Proudly logical. Gladly pick you apart. Sadly, and single handedly pulling the strings from your heart. Stitching compartments, living fancy. livid and darkness. Living apartment, shelling angry, felt the shift in you when I put my fist through the door. Sometimes, I listen to the pauses you take, the breaths, and silence in every word set astray. I don’t listen to you, or me when I talk, it decays. I just change my demeanor, and dock. It’s okay. It’s a struggle between me and my ego. A masturbation, heat sensing. I’ve feel in love with the inaudible between the masqueraded pretenses. I lost track of the bridges I burned.