I drown myself in wine
Lose myself in the flavor of liquor
Blood in my veins feel the shine
Fighting back all thought of time
Fighting back what heed of madness I find
Ever present yet absent from mind

Fumes of envy, vanity
Every breath exhumed consumes me
Liquor's sweet sting on my tongue, my throat,  my lips
Away, all but my madness it strips

Foreign fragrance and bitter taste
Bring sweet stupor; a seductive sedative, aglazed in daze
By and by, away blaze days
While slumber I and feel no waste

Sloppy smile, half-closed eyes
And sweet, melodious, malodorous sighs

wanted:
Rm w/ a Vu
of U

woke up 2pm this morning
squandered all the afternoon
building magic fortresses, high on rainbow rock
til my eyes got sore and i got dizzy
from a sunny, golden-yellow glare
opened up the window, let in the draft
let in the air

(and risked pneumonia)

and I started thinking clearly then,
I started thinking when,
the deathly cold, cursed, no-remove,
fresh air got to my brain
and i sat there by the window
kept it open, 'spite the wind and rain
just following my train
of thought

(and risked pneumonia)

i felt that neither ice nor fire can do me harm
but why is it right now i feel too cold
yet still too warm
feel like a fire can freeze me,
and a breeze may bring me heatstroke,
feels like some sick ******* joke

but i started thinking clearly then,
i started thinking clearly when
my temperature went down
and i got to thinking,
and looking back
to before cold felt warm

and it came to me, i realized...

(i didnt catch pneumonia)

Everyone utters empty nothings
Meant to maybe sound assuring

Keep your empty words of ‘wisdom’
Taken from the ground
Well-trodden by the crowds
Cliches discarded twenty-fold

Your words are turds
gleaned from ****-lined alleyways
Well traveled by

Pretend to want to try to help
Pretend half-assed to care
So you can feel good about your sorry self
So you can call yourself a good person

Don't you worry about me,
I'm not going anywhere.
Don't think it's up me;
I'm not getting anywhere.

Second-hand coffee grounds
and sediment on cold mugs.
Filthy dregs,
cold hands, not a sound,
quiet, like a powder keg.
Empty room but for me.
There she blows,
weak breeze, tiny window.


Don't you forget about me.
I don't want to go just yet,
but when I did,
it's much more hell
than if I stayed.
It's much more hell

And you won't talk to me or listen even.
Weak breeze, tiny window.
And I can't find the way to say:
'Talk to me, talk to me'

And everyone I used to know
won't talk to me no more,
but you don't know me.
You don't know me no more.
Talk to me, talk to me