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 seek
To be a jaded little piece of shit

My phone cries like a fucking baby
And I cry like a fucking baby
My diaper is full of self-remorse
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
I don’t know starvation
I don’t know sadistic rape
Which makes my pain 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?