I drowned my days in ample waste
A sense of doom — a sense of haste!

Engulfed my skin — possessed my bones
Replaced my voice with brittle tones

the moon is 238,900 miles away
yet it still controls the tides
you are 783 miles away
and yet you still control my heart

you were toffee to my teeth
initially tasted so sweet
soon sickly, twisted and knotted
to my soul you
stuck and rotted

adopt a demon tonight
and if you're a writer
she'll help you become a
great one even
It is worth exposing yourself
to her
You won't call her a demon,
of course. That term is offensive
You'll refer to her as The Muse,
your muse
and she will visit you when the
time is right
and the time will be right
when you start doing your thing
You'll see.

People like you die young, she said
You don't drink, don't
do drugs, eat healthy, rarely
go out, rarely meet new girls

But you keep on writing, boy, you
keep on writing
and that's enough to outweigh
all the above

You'll see

the last time he went out of
his mind he liked it
so much there
that he never came back

not even after the
alcohol left
his blood

he keeps writing to this day

addresses women with 'sweangel'
a combination of sweet
and angel, I guess

but never spends more
than a matter of weeks
with any of them

some take pity on him
and some morbid curiosity

but no one loves him
truly
only his insanity