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my name is John O'Callaghan. I'm the narcissistic one of The Maine. I tend to waste a lot breath on an humanity that doesn't seem to exist. Warm breath and cigarettes. Light a lighter and be my match. I want to kiss the stale air reminding me of times when you were there. But now all I can smell is the hollow air hint of your breath that was once upon my soft fragile lips. Now it's only a matter of time. Speak up, speak up.. As I take my last breath, the blood drips from my concealed throat. I grasp for air, and hold my throat. 23. forgive me..
inhale(s)