we're the ones stuck somewhere between a passionate desire for life and a violent desire for death; trying to stop the hour glass from pouring its sand into the bottom half with a cigarette between our finger tips... we are scared and confused and contradictory...

and yea i guess
this is the human race
our compasses all
point to the same fate
but the beauty is seen
by those who dare to stray
we're all natural skeptics, anyway

******* hoodies and stained jeans
rank socks and two day old underwear
get back from work
collapse into the couch
feeling the exhaustion creep up from toes to top
smelling like an ashtray
eyes red from carrying heavy bags
***** the cap on and catch it with the flame
smoke filling it up
raising a fish out of the ocean
three
two
one
mouth pushes down as lungs become acrid
hold it in until you float away
now exhale
the body high
paranoia
giggles
sink deeper into the couch
ride the waves back
until you can see land
then find the message in the bottle
it says
you're not done quite yet
empty clinking
no more thinking
head is reeling
no more feeling
face the ceiling
fall asleep on the sofa
wake up long enough to crawl to bed
at one in the morning
fall into the black brick wall of unconsciousness
alarm clock screams ****** ******
snooze just a little further
brush the dentals
ice cold water washes over a washed up face
climb in the car at seven fifteen
to go make enough money
to do it all again
we stay in this purgatory
waiting to see if we make the list
heaven on hell
without a soul to sell