This is all
i could come up with
nothing more than little notes
notes of suicide, life and death
and all of the in between
it's all here.. in my notebook of flavescent, old, ripped pages
nothing more, and nothing less
pictures, and poems
doodles, and drawings
these are my dreams
my wishes... that i hope come true
all of my thoughts, my imagination gone wild
it's flawless
so devotional
and yet so depressing
i write about nothing, and everything
useless information, but omniscient at the same time
my veins are plethora, but not for long
the razor gets deeper
ambient light flows through me,
like the blood that once flowed through my veins
it's all in between
reality, and a state of depression
is where i live
and that's where i want to be
