were just kids, we know nothing

You offer a place to lay my wounded heart as I sit here on the edge of impossible and improbable, navigating the messaged as mixed as my lovesick thoughts. My story digested into bitesize pieces with the hope they don't get lodged in your throat as you cough out enough half though out sentences to give me enough of a hit to string me along to my isolated desolate burial ground. We've been here before, cold and warm at the same time, floating in a body of water and dying of thirst. The voice in my head swirl and thrash and spiral until I dont know which way is North. You've become my north star out east and im turned about and spining further and further out of control. My thoughts punish me for even contemplating for a second that this could be enough and its a toll ill pay in advanced. Your words, delicate like a feather in the wind, calculated and controlled like a highschool massacre, they could never kill me as much as the voices in my head which envelope me and water my soul down until there isn't much more to me then this thoughts I cant control and words I choke on. Is there more to me than this warfare in my mind. Is there more to me than the voices. Do I even exist outside of your stories.

Your thoughts are not who you are.