Idle talk
and groping glances
are thrown and strewn
at the idle dances.

Your sickeningly sweet smile
given refuge in the eye of the storm;
abetted by the valour of your current tipple.

Hand on hand,
eye on eye
then quickly turn to pass on by.

The constant ebb and flow of your
in-out,
here-gone,
love-doubt,
ignore-fawn,
contradictory chaos is enough to drive the
dead to drink.

I drown the dead within me
with the dregs of the Host.
Living tonight to the
detriment of tomorrow.

Your disinterest is key,
for when my brain bleeds blue.
My mood is ****,
and so are you.

I am sorry
grips and grows
when I was fun.
And I bore into you.

I bore you.

The endless throes
Leaving you with nothing to say
of the insatiable soul
at the end of the
like the solitary smell
your obligation

But I am sorry that
because of me
like the rip and the hole
you can't enjoy the sun,
and the silence binds
poor man's sole.

Dropped on the situation,
When the penny has
Leaving me clutching at straws.
You never knew me.
I could be sorry that
to your skin
of your family home
Misery sticks.

I bore you,
And I bore into you.
Leaving you with nothing to say;
Leaving me clutching at straws.

The endless throes
of the insatiable soul
grips and grows
like the rip and the hole
at the end of the
poor man's sole.

I could be sorry that
because of me
you can't enjoy the sun,
but I am sorry that
you never knew me
when I was fun.

When the penny has
dropped on the situation,
and the silence binds
your obligation,
I am sorry.