Poseidon Salt water burial

I try to make a good excuse but
I dont even know what.im doing here
its just too much noise
screaming synapse
picturing what death is like.
I hope it's quiet where no one can bother me
faces passing me by
awkward looks from a heavy sigh
I know how it's felt
I'm sorry to bother you as much as I bother myself
I strive for shadows to swallow the blue tint in my eyes
pray for a silhouette suicide,
defy what hope lies inside.
I use to be scared to die,
but it's a sickening high to feel nothing
 when I feel so empty most of the time
stoic blight from the start,
nihilist by the end of the night
I see genius in the art of demise,
devices used to fight Gods,
I'd tear my soul apart just to combat that kind of light

I hope death is filled to the brim with dark nights and high times with sweet exctasy released, cut me open and rip each rib from my chest for death to be appeased, an eve from each one, twenty-four beautiful angels from something so ugly, above me I hope you rise to glory just to fall back to my feet, learn the extremes so personally.

"Change" that's all they want, "sitting in the shower for hours isn't a healthy thing", but it's the only time I feel at peace, the drowning of the voices in my skull, the sweet lullabies that swoon me into bittersweet destruction, I just want to hear the rain...
wash away the feelings that "I'm not good enough", "why the hell am I always so mad at me?",
the yes the no, the siren guiding my rowboat to the jagged rocks of calamity,