untitled 10/6 
you're making me ill,
tugging at my tendons
and tearing at my tongue.
i can only make promises
in old stained blood,
you know how tired i am.
a stone in my chest,
a must do should do can't do,
finding it hard to see it through.
it's not my job to see this through.
begging and pleading
but i've lost this solid ground
so if you search for stability here
you'll find none.
don't make me act this up,
just leave it alone,
we all deserve our freedom,
leave the past alone.
you're making me ill,
but i wish you the best,
on some damned shooting star,
lay us both to rest.
no good, none at all,
i hope you find your solace
but not in me my weary bones
you know im too weak to hold-
anything in my broken hands. 
one day i know you'll find a home,
but i will never find,
this peace of mind inside,
this responsibility (of everything)
wearing thin joints and bones.
ill on this sinking bed,
save us both now.
a feeble prayer for the sick
i did my best,
and i swear i didn't ask for this.