Giving in.

It's lingering.
The smell of smoke
I feel it every time I put on these jeans
It wraps around my arms.
Makes me feel at home

It's deafening
The noise inside this car
I block it out
So I can try on my new conscience
It's second hand

I'm not going to be poetic any more
The aesthetic is left spilled on the floor
I'm disappointed in the human race
That we havn't found a cure for this yet
Please don't touch me.

I need to decide if I hate you.

Please don't fucking touch me.