Like an erosion for the soul flare flare flare consume the fuel, wither and burn until all the pages turn to ash I want to put a gun in my mouth because happiness is a disease that will never infect me I have found the cure in absolute undying misery Sometimes I feel unstable walking a tight rope over the lions of society just when I am about to fall I learn how to fly But its all bad poetry scrawled on cocktail napkins that I leave behind me so that hopefully one day I will find my way back home