It is just not a good day for heavy thoughts and sweaty socks
Because I am all alone -
Without my heart of stone
I will be chasing sadness all day long;
Maybe turn it into a song,
A dirge
A complaint of woeful hate.

And the words will still sound wrong.

And I will perch up here
On my post of hollow wood;
Dribble words from my lips.
I will poke holes in your ears;
Puppet your pivoting hips.

I will drench myself in covers of comatose catastrophes
That seem statistically highly impossible to occur,  
Yet my mind loves to weep so much.

He will imagine pain just to bring me to life.

And this is all that I have got,
This song,
These shots,
And not even those because taps are dry,
Bottles empty,
Fizzes flat,
Broken glass

Open heart,
             will you ever stop bleeding?
Open wounds, pussing foamy forgotten youth.

And I could have spent all this time
Practicing how to smile,
But my mouth was too busy talking about my
Imaginary sadness.