A Song About Suicide and Cats

My head is ablaze and my eyes are swimming
I talk from my stomach of how I've stopped dreaming,
How it's night when I sleep and night when I awake,
And how these windowless walls hide me from the day.
But I want to give you everything I couldn't give to myself.
I want you all to live for the things that I was too afraid as hell
To.

I paid more for an empty chest of treasures
Than my younger self paid for his fleeting pleasures
So why can't either of us be happy with what we've bought,
Why have we both developed a resistance to the poison in our thoughts?
But I give you all everything and leave nothing for myself,
I want you all to live more than I've been able to in this hell.

I've been coming home daily to a shrieking chorus
An empty house filled to bursting with meaningless stories
A hundred soft bodies whispering at my legs
A hundred needy children too damn cynical to beg.
But it's a hundred mouths I need to feed before I feed myself
And if there's nothing left I guess I'll starve
Ha, like I've been doing anything else.

But my bed is never cold, and I never sleep alone,
And I'm grateful as a dying dog following a bone
Into the furnace, into the needle, into a one-sided embrace,
I wonder what cuts deeper: my silence or the blade.
But I'll pick at every scar that I can't afford to bleed,
And paint the walls with abstract signs the inhabitants can't read,
So the hunger in my heart is filled by air rushing in my throat,
And no one will have to feed my fucking cats when I go.