I can't sleep 'cause I'm ugly. That's not ridiculous. My own figments of my imagination think I'm digusting and gross. Let's get wasted, just just me i mean. I take my pills alone. And take my swigs of rum, alone. And get Fuc*ed up, and be me, even, alcohol free all the while lonesome. Not wanting flesh and bones to want me, 'cause if, let's say, some flesh and bones did want some of this- the countdown would start ticking down to the time he starts to break my own little piece of confidence up, chipping away at my facial foundation facade. And then i'll start helping him break me. And then i'll take on the job full-time to break myself up even more than what was already slice before sliced again over and over for a thicker scar. I'm not messed up. Well maybe I am. I'm just real and honest. Let me shut the front door and start it. One dream to go, please. One more short lived escape from this existence. Let me not be me. And don't be you. Don't see me. I'll look away. No eye contact. Now I'm invisible. Play my movie.