I’m a klepto, stealing breaths from an alter ego that could be using them much better than I ever have
Hyper ventilating to get in as many as I can.
My pyro maniac magee style burns bridges and he loses himself in the flames
What a beautiful light from paths I’ll never walk again
Warmth of a home made by finding the right match.
Manic tactics have a well dressed maverick finding tranquility in street corners
Something draws him back to concrete blocks that housed him when nobody else would
Now that he has options, he stills feels like he belongs where they never turned him away
The voices telling him he shouldn’t because he couldn’t in the first place
Much easier to live safe than sorry, aka shot or MUTILATED
Whether it be a random utterance or his own when he was 13,
It guides him to look down and walk straight
They never answer how I’ll ever if he never tries, but I don’t ask questions
If he ever allowed real eye contact, he’d realize that many are schizo that way.
Sitting on the 4 train, drugged sufficiently
No… it’s ok
It was clinically recommended
Got really angry one day before getting nervous, watching Saved by the Bell
Then remembered to laugh when he opened the blinds
Best feeling I can remember
But they figured they’d even him out
Now all he truly feels is that… Zoloft is a hell of a drug
Watches the doors open… and close
Umbrella of the girl next to me pokes my side every time she shifts
It’s no biggie
I can’t remember the last time I minded much
The good life.
He laughs at the lady doing laps from pole to pole on the train
She couldn’t keep her pants up, saying something to Anthony
Who nobody else could see
He chuckled again