carrying capacity

It wasn’t my choice
To be raised with Google
And porn at my fingertips
Fun-dip and flavored chips
I didn’t wish
To be a jaded little piece of shit

My self-loathing runs through a Hollywood wardrobe
It comes out the other end in a smile,
For my beloved friends and family
Pain is so ugly to look upon
I wouldn’t do that to them

And it’s not pain,
In the real sense
More akin to inconvenience
Which makes it more pitiful
Undeserved and leisurely

I’m at the precipice
Across the chasm, bright success
Down the valley, freedom lies
I fantasize
A blood-water bathtub
In that jokester way,
That mountain-of-a-molehill way
Romanticized modern-day suicide
I just need a day off
Or a hard day’s work

If all my density
Were sucked into me
Like a bitchy little black-hole –
I’d take you with me,
And you’d probably thank me –
We’re all tired, ain’t we?