I'm smelling myself in past dimensions,
because my mind's still going in a mllion directions,
and synasthesia's still scaring the shit out of me.
The taste and smell were always the same,
and they made me so glad that you came,
and I can't believe this fear is what will make me free.
The continued pulsing won't go away with time,
and I'm still being punished with enjoyment of the crime,
and no pill I swallow will make it go away.
So this is the feeling, to unburden myself,
to stick every last bottle up on a shelf,
and tell a room of strangers what I've done...?
Well then I'm left here just asking
whose will I've been tasking,
and what the hell do I do now for fun?
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