One more drink.
Two more cigarettes.
My hands are sticky,
at that place we went.
Some regrets.
A few angry gods,
devious wretch.
I’m still floating in the same shit-swamp I was born in.
Depression; cancer of the soul—
Begging and drowning and dying in it.
This good poison,
a music I can’t deny.
Damaged…
Love shy…
Love struck.
Fucked.
Secure in my emptiness,
into the garage I go,
and talk with my imaginary friends.
We’re all addicted to demons;
dipped in reality.
Walls come tumbling down.
Kinship denied.
The pieces that fill the hole
that you’re drowning in
for the rest of your life.
Stumbling around in the dark, drowning.
And this cigarette tasted like…
And this drink smelled like…
the room was spinning.
But with a carton half full of cigarettes,
I can do anything.
Glitter,
shiny nails;
they look so pretty.
Waiting for this rain to start,
wondering what will be cleansed.
