the buzzards have found my gut. hello again, and welcome back.
let's stretch this day out, me & you, together. I'll ignore that ****** up sensation, that all my feelings are being eaten away, if we can grab some coffee, if I don't run out of cigarettes.
the buzzards have found my gut, hello again, and welcome back.
we know I spent this weekend hiding, living on a borrowed pack that's running low, packing bowls I knew would soon be empty for awhile. but they couldn't find me, not in that bed. yet they pace the staircase outside my door, and guard me.
the buzzards have found my gut, hello again, and welcome back.
so we have lunch, and I smile across my last meal, pretty sure that I would've preferred the cash, to spend on something that could spoil my lungs. but it's the thought that counts, it isn't the end quite yet. and they wait for the scraps I toss beneath the table.
I wonder how no one ever notices me feeding my demons. I wonder what each emotion tastes like, I wonder which ones I'm giving away, 'cause I can't look. I wonder what's left in my body.
the buzzards have found me hiding. the buzzards have begun to swarm. they are coming to give me back my emotion. they are coming to let me know I'm wrong.