Fig and Zen wrote this and it's real cool and stuff.

[Zen]

Living on the outside. Conscious of you.
A performance for devout eyes that costs you the view.

Crying and blind like I'm dying inside. I'm like a lie; I'm a rind. A shell of a man, who cried like a conche when you blew.

So let the con chest protrude. The common object is views. Is it enough to say my house of mirrors is product of truth? I'm caught up in clues. Klonopin colada abused. clock constantly accosts while this karma accrues.

Got my heart in a noose, chokehold. Use my arm to get loose, but it's so cold. Gasps squeak softly, that harmonious tune explains the martyrs use. Go home.

I awake in cold sweats scratching my throat with a blade in my own grip. Savage at soul. Jack on the floor. Madness controlled. My mirror hates me. It collapsed and broke and shattered. My toes bleeding from glass shards, hasn't this happened before? Punched everything and then thrashed some more. Smoking weed and gasp hard. Threw my trash on the porch. Shit, I'm high now writing this tied to a mirror. No paper. No lines. My mind just types this using my eyes as a printer. Pain inside supplies the rhymes. *Enter*

I strain to divine the warm light that's stationed inside;
encased in the mind, but forsakend with tastes from the pipe.
so vacant and blight. these rations of contaminant sipped..
shaded yet shined. commanded to abandon the ship.
Stagnant, inanimate man akin to mannequins when,
a glass casket gets a grip upon the canvas within.
It's dated and signed. I'm adamant I'll take it in time.
Parading through lifes lanes while in no state to drive

So, Jesus take the wheeeeeeell!! Carrie's my babe on the side so I make her carry my underwear til she starts pacing, crying and screaming, "Baby, why!?!? I'm leaving!!"

"K, bye!"

Hatred's alive, and its winning. A sinner sinning wasted on life. Wasted life from the beginning. Drugs saved me, right? Waiting to end this. How much does it take to die? So emo, so evil. Unable to face the light because I hate it inside. I hate happiness. It seems fake, compliant. Rather be angry and violent plunging blades in your eyelids...I mean fuck, what was I saying? I lost my page. Oh, right, if love's a game who wins? Who loses? It takes two to play and I've tried but, shit, I hate some ties.

Sometimes I'm jealous of those who thrive in a cage. Wish I could sit idle while my life slips away. Update my Facebook for my need of praise. Instagram my selfie, #smilieface:). Watch me. Love me. You guys are great! Listen to beats by Dre while I see whose liked my page.

The pessimist in me hates that, but that makes me seem like a hipster. "Oh, you don't like it? Wow, go figure." Everybody's a know it all now on Twitter. Remember when times were so simpler?

Be out all light.

Come home for dinner.

These memories cloud my mind. I think they're over, finished....Until I think it over, then I'm back in the moment living it. I still remember when I first met Sarah, we were only children. I even remember when Dad was home for Christmas. Ok, I've had it. It's over, end this.

It's hard to accept death. It's even harder to accept life. We neglect living because we're dead inside. Walk around dreaming. Think we're so clever. No pleasure for the pest with mind. Nature's blunder. The deceptive kind. We warp our memories to fit our image of who we are. We're all legends inside. Look around for meaning with desperate eyes. We'll sleep when we're dead because rest is a vice. Stick lead in our spine to get through to our thick heads that we're dying.

Under pressure, we watch forever unwind. Together, we're fine watching the weather. Oh, my. We're looking at the sun set red in the sky as it let in the night. We touched hands, and let out a sigh. Her hair laid down on her eyes as we kissed in the sand.

But all I keep wondering is why am I remembering her again?