When I try to think of the things I want to hear all I come to is a stalemate

 I've been contemplating writing my suicide note for so long,
but all I've written so far was a less than a mediocre song.

Can't stand my tired eyes and crooked smile,
waiting in the same line as my hope has been dying all the while.
As I try to melt off my body,
I grow out of my bones,
spending time on things that are tearing down homes.
Been isolated,
yet the drinks are missing,
been suffering,
yet the days are a blessing.

Times of anew await,
but the papers are still haunting,
will today be the day that I learn to love me?

The story of the anthropomorphic pizza that's been laying there for a few weeks now

I got you on my mind,
haunting me most of the time,
like 24/7-11,
pizza on my floor,
laughing at the matter,
of me locking my bedroom door.

Fearful of the fact,
that you always come back,
keeping windows shut,
just to keep the thought out.