I'm so lonely, but I've used up all my mistakes to make.

The skin that was so suitable for scars is now too ugly for them to have meaning.  I am what people predicted as they parted from me before, awash in the failures I collect like litter in the eddy of a stream.  Soon this stream shall be in the earth, and only that trail of trash shall mark where I once was.

The broken logic of my mind is not saved by a body that wishes to survive.  Oh no, it screams in the pains of a car wreck, plays a song in glucose notes that quickly vary from vessel rupturing heights to death embracing depths.  I take pills for the pressures on my heart and my mind, but some pressures are not so easily remedied.

Debt.  Oh, yes I am indentured.  

I wish to be touched, but I'm not even spoken to.  My thoughts they must seem leprous - keep away as he rots, lest you do too.