I want to rip you open until you can see your heartbeat so that you can remember you’re still alive.
You’re so busy trying not to feel anything that you drink and smoke away your dreams.
If you could stop avoiding the pain of uncertainty you would remember how to breathe.
But you’re struggling with insomnia.
Numbing your brain with unimportant things.
Pulling the trigger to hit your dopamine.
You’re not a machine.
If you like what you hear, lean into me.
I’m not here for the weak.
I will look you in the eyes while I rip you open
So you can bleed out the festering wounds pulsing with the disease of your fractured identity.
I came here with my blade wrapped in the art of words to separate you from the herd.
Are you ready to bleed?