lines, bottles, pipes,
you on my bed,
tangled in the sheets,
I swallowed what you fed.
perhaps if I had shame,
then I would\'ve declined,
but when I killed myself
I didn\'t die.
angelic as a demon,
but I ran away with you.
everything\'s my fault,
the gun is clicking,
I\'m still breathing, experiencing.
I\'m so fucking through.