I hate it.
For a musician,
Maybe it's fun. The beat.
To keep you alive.
But writing is just like *****
That sometimes,
Spills out all night
After a terrible day.
All I want is sleep.
All I get is words puking out.
Sharp little hands crawling up my throat.
Scratching on my teeth.
So up I go. Fumbling for the lights.
Again.
In the dark.
To let them out.
Dec 11, 2015
Dec 11, 2015 at 2:12 AM UTC
I hate it.
For a musician,
Maybe it's fun. The beat.
To keep you alive.
But writing is just like *****
That sometimes,
Spills out all night
After a terrible day.
All I want is sleep.
All I get is words puking out.
Sharp little hands crawling up my throat.
Scratching on my teeth.
So up I go. Fumbling for the lights.
Again.
In the dark.
To let them out.
