i see these sides to me that need to be reacclimatized to societies standards, firing randomly at the enemies i see in my sleep, i wake and i weep in need of a palate cleanser. trading lead for liquor cause only shots can censor the images i see in my head yet it’s only gotten trickier, the reflexes linger and my finger misses the kiss of the trigger that itches to dig in deeper to whatever seems to be making me sicker. 




if i could tie a tourniquet around it i’d turn it around but i’m dirty down on the curb 'tween the lost and the found. these bootleg foster systems who i thought would listen when they promised to help me through it only cross their fingers. all it cost was control of my life to get a soulful of deadweight and a head that’s claustrophobic at night. giving life to the demons that feed on my inner light, i return from my plights finding i’m still serving life.





so show me a place where sunshine is brighter than the gunfire.