Numbers 1–10

Once, Is the number of times I put myself first before you, you not even blinking

Twice as you hurt me

Third, the number of rounds I bought to forget you

Fourth, just another guy I fucked to get me to the

Fifth time I slit my wrist dripping into an unconscious

sixth sense of an alternate reality where I’m wishful of a

Seventh heaven to come take me away

Eighths of weed I smoke, through pipes and paper, inhaling green grass and exhaling to my other side, Dante’s

Ninth level of hell, where

Tenth, at the finish line feels just as good as first and maybe one day I wont have to count over and over and always end up back at