New High.

The 2 kinds of people, of which I do not speak of, of which I would never find it in me to overcome the deep rooted wrath.
The ones who have intentionally caused me harm, and the ones who have deliberately made use of me.
I sometimes picture myself stabbing you multiply, so hard, so fast.
Anyone who wears the very same shoes as me would read with empathy.
If we no longer speak, at least now you know why.

The ageing process is real.
A night long of hammering, follows a day of incapcitation.
Blaring loud music no longer enticed me like it did before.
Soaring through the night streets, visions tunneling, unable to keep the focus straight.
When passing lights seem way too slow, the gauge speak otherwise.
I’ve found my new high.

Rest in peace.

Advertisement