Breathe in.
Breathe out.
It seems like a foriegn concept.

Oxygen seems too much right now.

Time's the only thing
that will predict the future.
But I know I'll fall apart.

Self inflicted cuts
tearing me to pieces.
I'm holding on to anything
that has a chance of hurting me.

I'm betraying
everything I believe in
with this feeling.
This infatuation.
It's spinning me faster and faster
and helping me fall apart.
It's destroying the foundations
of life's explanations.
And I couldn't need it less
that I do rigt now.
 
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