If I told you that a flower bloomed in a dark room, would you trust it?
"skate or die" is a false ideology. we are born dead, and we skate to pretend to be alive
is a living room wall
with awkwardly placed photographs
hiding fist-sized holes.
i am warm and i am bored and i am drifting through this place
it’s no better or worse than anything else that’s ever happened to me
but i wish that i’d never met a lot of the people that i’ve met
not because i don’t like them but because i only let them down
and when you disappoint everyone all the time it’s hard not to want to die constantly i feel this weird and shameful feeling
like im being watched by a thousand glowing, vengeful eyes
behind one way mirrors in public bathrooms and in metro cars
and everywhere i go i know i’m not welcome.