this poem isn't about me it's about tails ok so don't worry i'm actually doing fine
it's times like these when i'm glad i don't own a gun but maybe i shouldn't be. enough pills to kill me and still my body is resistent. christ beingg alone hurts. why can't i find anybody ever since PamelCosmo left? entropy by design as i pound my fists on a door unanswered. skin breaking. knuckles cracking. bleed and disintegrate on this point of no reentry. i am a dying paradox. there's a thin line between my greatest fears and desires. the line is blurring.