I often contemplate the half a plate that I ate with half a face

Half this juice is past its date

I can tell by its after taste

More than a little bitter..

And the only decency is buried deep beneath the middle

But

Now
The bottom of the base of this cup is leaking too.

Or

Is that the regrets of my heart speaking through?
...
It's hard feeling like peaking when its the weekend and you're thinking while everybody is sleeping

All alone with no reason other than being a rolling stone

That just can't get no satisfaction of his own

I tainted that
So paint it black
Take it back
And make it fast
Please don't make it last

I feel as naked as a monster with no Jason Mask

I feel a weak grip on me...

In a Kryptonite crib built with a crypt
For me

Plus a wet blanket stitched

Just like a quilt!

For me.

I can't tip toe around these eggshells on stilts

You see

This poet is just a character I've imagined up

To handle the damage I've been handed

To saddle up

And steadily battle these matters up

Because the aftermath and after what is after us

Disasterous

If it catches you faster without an Acura

Or master bus pass

Must last through the night though

Tomorrow.

We'll bother to borrow somebody's light pole

The sorrow
So sour
It gets more intense by the hour

So pucker up and feel fates lips drip with power