I stare at blank pages and earbuds with grins
I open rum bottles like I do ink pens;
Eager & callow & begging for answers to crawl from their depths,
For "It'll be okay" to hit me like waves.

Sometimes all it does is make everything worst
And it's not the substance & it's not the life & it's not his absence
It's this state of mind, that follows me around
All I can do is pour empty oceans and hope I'll stumble upon land

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