Sometimes it isn't enough to know you'll die,
But most of the time it is.
But on those times when it isn't,
(Which, being honest, is when I'm drunk out of my skull.)
I think to myself how truly awful I am,
And how much worse than you I am for even attempting to justify feelings like this to myself,
I am infinitely worse than you'll ever imagine.
If only I'd say this to your face.

And then there's you,
Strange person reading this on some forum while drinking tea or farting.
Here is somebody pouring theirselves onto your monitor page and for what?
Catharsism?
I don't even know.
All I know is that I'm not right in the head.
Is this even poetry?