it is crazy, isn't it, to sit and gush over a cart full of garbage?
is it crazy
to think that a house loves you, because it protects you like no one ever has?
is it mad to try to leave?
or is it the desperation of clarity?
i know we are all mad
but the levels
some seem higher
but look who's advising me
i know those neurons have been misfiring
since that first shot nicked me
and i fell
with a horrified look on my face
but while falling in slow motion
a small smile
because the ground was coming up to meet me
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