I'm not sure.
Not sure about you.
Not sure about me.
Not sure about anything.
Cocain is my gain.
Herione equals pain.
When you mix them, it's the same.
LSD makes you see.
Gives us less time to judge me.
Hmm,
I'm still unsure.
Let's fix it.
With what?
The quick fix of course.
It tastes funny.
Get used to it.
That's all there is to it.
I wonder how I go on someone else's floor.
And I'm not sure how the scratches under my eyes got here.
I'm not ready to leave so stop trying to get me to go.
My nails are cut past the quick.
Take a drag.
More than that.
Why?
Because.
Take my hand and I'll take you where you want to go.
How do I know where it is?
I just do.
Photographic memory.
Never failed me.
And even though you're dead and I never knew who you were until now, I still feel guilty about reading your journal. I feel like I've raped your undead soul. I'm sorry. I really am.
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My heart-shaped box. . .
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