i’m at ease with my disease. my bones are skin is just a clever disguise for my decaying heart. I dread seeing tomorrow through the hollowed out eyes that stare back at me from the bathroom mirror. Candy land-pharmacy style. I don’t have any place to call home. I’m an orphan. Homesick from hospital waiting rooms. Cardiac arrest me and throw away the keys. I weave lies like the lastest fashion. Hang yourself from the rafters of this shattered dream. I share my secrets with the white noise in my ears. Same sob story, same sob channel. Signed, sealed and delivered from my wrists to your lungs.