skin like a frozen chicken
tired eyes
and a voice like smoke
braindead
unwashed
and you tell me a joke

wanting to laugh
but deep within
a thought of death
troubled
exhausted
so save your breath

a kind soul
with smiling eyes
in good health
you can't get to know me
how can I know you
if I can't know myself

the thick heady rush
of my midnight dredge
a hallucination
when I don't recognise myself in the mirror

the roll of my eyes
when I stand up
and my legs give way
in a lopsided dance to the wall

the curl of my fingers
as they pull down the curtain
and my arms break through
the glass window

"how ******* sweet
it would be to throw it all away"

you say, from your warm house, in your clean clothes

"to just pack it all in
and live, out there"

pausing to sip your drink

"maybe I should
travel more"

yeah right.

pig-ignorant and blind
well fed and unkind
an ivory tower
of meaningless power
you never will leave behind

I'm sick of being sick of everything


deep red, it burns a hole into my skull

original right? four in the morning, I bet you're crying now
you alienate your friends and revere drug abuse
how ******* original

39, 40, 41, only son, nothing done, faulty one
63, 64, 65, tricky lives, slicker knives, I'm sick, I lie
98, 99, 100, and I dread, and how red, I'm brain dead

those that bore us with tales of drunken nights
cheap wine and what she said to him
who send you pictures of their pets
and watch TV because "everyone is watching it"

those time-wasters, those narcissistic fools
who call you 'friend'
who open their hollow heart
and what flutters out?
"my ex-boyfriend said..."
"when I was in Thailand..."
"Isn't that just like me?"

those reflections, they are not worth your time

My head rushed, as I turned over to sleep
I should be doing something, I'm hopeless
those are the first two things I think this morning

My breakfast, if you can call it that, won't stay down for long
I crawl to the sink, my skin looks yellow in the mirror

Why, why, why? Those are the third fourth and fifth thoughts
why do I get up, why do I have to do this, why

I'm a balloon on a string that needs to be cut