everything i like is either fictional, expensive or not texting me back

i must like how rotting feels,
my body slowly sewn into cheap polyester  
otherwise i’d get up and win, right?  
no, i’m being sort of serious this time
it’s not just another sad nihilistic attempt
at sarcastic irony that spills from
behind my teeth
and swallows the world and me  
i’ve created a personality with the hands of god  
carved out of indie films and concepts i’ll never quite grasp
but it seems to do the trick half the time
casual self-loathing masks the narcissism  
that runs deep in my hollowed out bones  
pour yourself in there while you’re at it
drown in me  
and i’ll breathe in you
 
poetic ramblings will convince you my mind’s good enough for a fuck  
throw your problems onto mine then we’ll touch, suck
because that’s all my mouth is good for anyway  
according to the world and you  
god’s a man so you deserve his name too  
and i deserve a pretty place to serve you
no, fuck we’ll never fix anything
i’m just as bad as you are  
i’ll continue to dive deeper, get more obsessed  
till i’m numbed out, wasted in my fantasy nest
i don’t know what i am
but that’s okay  
i’ll solve you and me in my dreams.