I'm Andrew.
I'm 18.
I write, and smoke more cigarettes than I'd care to admit.
I live in a fantasy world in my head.
And I don't give an actual fuck.
I love mathematics and all that it has in store.
Tonight, my knees are weakened
with the guilt of what I’ve done,
and what will be finished,
but it could be the wine,
I’m bound for the floor.
Tomorrow, my bones are cracked
with all the crushing words
that have filled my head,
I will be empty.
