There are no mistakes. Only decisions.
The choices that you choose to make.
And the night that you saw them choose (the way I watch 
you choose)
You described it as a "physical pain" in your spine
I watched your spirit break
I felt the collapse of my mental complex as my head hit 
my hands.
I would rather be alone forever than suffer "out of body 
experiences."
A pestilence.
It resonates in these waves of human garbage that 
frequent my memory.
Images of floating bodies, scathed, soiled.
Replaying in my head's airwaves.
So I will just lay back down.
In this bed I buried inside of your house.
A hollow hole that I have dug for myself.
A home that I have settled into.
Because I have been slipping into nothing
and these thoughts are worthless
as long as actions keep showing the same signs of
"if it looks dead and it smells dead..."
it's probably f**king dead.