I'm happy again.

"Melting into the floor in the icebox
all the effects are wearing off
The temperatures wrong
I got them double sox"

Coffee, cigarette,
study, drunken ***, repeat,
coffee, cigarette...

...I run to you, and we run from there.
My shoes are too slow,
and that bus is too quick,
and this city is making me sick.
It's plagued with youth
frail dreams unseen.
These girls can put nails on my back,
moans in my ear
but believe me
my words to them are never as sincere.

Its been two months,
60 days,
riding this elevator up, down.
60 days each starting with a ride down,
hung over, sore lungs, red eyes,
anxious about my health, studies,
and when the amphetamines will kick.
60 days ending with the ride back up,
heavy eyed, mostly drunk,
anxious about whether or not I've impressed that girl,
or whether or not I give a ****.

Failing, academically, morally,
I skip class, take advantage of people,
I **** my friends, **** strangers,
**** my sheets at night when I dream about the girl I've never met,
or maybe met but never considered.

I'm full of it, flexing my scrawny arms when I'm alone in that elevator.
I can't tell what I am to people, how I compare.
What I do know is I'm sick, lack empathy, *****,
immature, greedy, drunk, spoiled, distractable.
But people like me, even grow fond of me.
The only thing I'm doing right is hiding,
myself within myself.

Its hard to tell if you actually enjoy someone when they're so ******* stunning.
I try to listen, but all I hear is the moisture between her lips,
the breath between her words,
then the elevator ring.
A good-bye
A kiss, an eye squinting smile,
Another kiss, and I walk away with that goofy smile.
But why?
Is it her pulchritude, or because I love to love,
Or have I ever?

Got up an put on my shoes an said baby I'm goin where there aint no blues.
She said get back in bed an tell me about the trouble in your head.
But its not me, I've just so much more to see
an I haven't been ignoring you,
I just stopped adoring you.
Come on, you must be familiar
with the sensation, all these men you lead with temptation.
Jus go, with your hair and your eyes,
theres plenty a man to ***** at those thighs.

But when you come, which I know you will,
all whimper and wine
I'll be too ****** far to waste more of my time.