it's the boss battle
& the world has left me
ill-equipped

another Saturday Syndrome
where I chase a bottle
to quiet the brain
but I can't stir the silence
in my own domain
& it's so deafening I cannot
breathe

is this what it's like to be
punished and free?
is this what it's like to
sit chained before the sea?


I promised myself


I wear my headphones
in the bar
but I can still hear the desperation
in the voices from afar

we are all low on ammunition
& I've got no spare cash for
the right kind of
ambition


I promised myself


I'm just crossing fingers
& wishing on spilled
eyelashes

that maybe, just
maybe
I'll be far *******
past this



I promised myself it wouldn't
be me