I can feel you in my lungs, feel you in my veins.

            I’m sitting here on the subway, headphones in, minding my own business. I hear the lyrics of “Nikki” flow into my ears. There are smokers and other people standing around, but I’ve been trained to not give a single fuck about them.

            I’m supposed to be stone cold but have a heart of gold.

            It’s Friday, late night, people are either going out or going home exhausted. The subway is emptier than Trump’s head. Nobody speaks to anyone else and we’re all prepared for an attack of any kind. It’s been hardwired into our brains to do so; not because we want to, but because we need to.

            It’s not safe out there.

            But as much as it isn’t safe outside, it’s a goddamn war zone inside all of us. We torment ourselves with negative thoughts, negative news; all of the evil in the world is put out for show and we don’t realize it.

            Bloodstream only way to make it to my brain.

            We’re so focused on how bad it is somewhere else in the world. We compare each other to see who has it worse, constantly digging our own graves so someone else will pity us. Some resort to drugs and crazy shit to get themselves to a proper high that cuts everything out, leaving them with a feeling of blissful ignorance. But these highs only last so long until you crash again and need another flood of dopamine in your brain to keep you numb.

             I tried some others, but man, they just not as good as you, goin’ crazy ’cause I only feel this good with you.

            Sadly, as we dig deeper into our abyss, we need more pleasure to give us our temporary wings. More is becoming less and less as the vicious cycle goes on, a tornado of bad thoughts, shit circumstances, and endless highs. We become weak to it.

            Maybe I’m not as strong as I once was. When we’re together lately, I don’t even feel a buzz. I’m addicted to this shit like it was hard drugs.

            We realize that maybe we should stop digging into our inevitable deaths and have fair reasons to let go, but there's a part of us still hanging on as if it was our lifeline.

            Nikki, baby, I love you but now I gotta go. ’Cause in the end what happens you already know.

            Hiding away our problems in the back of our minds, thinking that maybe if we ignore it, it’ll magically go away, but try as we might, it just grows into a bigger problem and we’re wondering what the hell happened and how.

            Probably wonder where I been at, I been laying low, but in my mind I’m wondering what I’m paying for.

            Perhaps I’m thinking too much on this.

            My train arrives.