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.
Smoking my last cigarette and waiting
for you tonight,
I’m unsure if you’ll understand, but I need
you the most when the lights are dim,
and my lungs are empty because
you bring up my mind, away from
all the stressors and the nights.
