porcelain,

when its all that i'll see,

from hospital to sea,

whether im dying or withering.

porcelain,

could be then, could be now,

depending on my birthday crown;

it used to be cake,

but it's a cup of pills now.

i drink like a fish you can't catch,

while i try settling down,

covered in trees and out of town,

listening to seasons that aren't around.

i get sad at sea,

as long as its about me,

feeling nauseous and noisy,

I'm sure im just a mess to see,

i fall apart to pick me up,

i'll think of things i couldn't say,

i'll be my worst to feel enough.

you can't hold them,

even when they need it,

they don't all cry for help,

even when it's needed.

poked full of holes,

like a sun set in clouds,

sidewalk shop signs say:

Sobriety Not Allowed;

besides myself in a park bench,

i walk through a door,

then it looks like a train,

and it melts into rehab,

but i'm staring at a sink,

where i'm draining away,

loved ones calling names,

but i can't remember the day.

the more that i drink,

the closer you're here,

the better i feel,

if i could be there.

the more that i drink,

the less that is there,

the better i feel,

i don't want to hear.

the more that i drink,

the less they will know,

the better i'll feel,

the less i am here.

the more that i drink,

the less i could care,

the more that i bear,

the less you are here,

but i'll try to be here.

pulled close to uncomfortable,

but neglect the brain fanfare in quiet,

while i can't quite get over you;

survivor's guilt won't sell,

pretty apparitions keep you here,

until you see a white wall,

where a loved one was there.