chugging nyquil
with black haired girls
in the bathroom, with my bones shivering in anticipation
and cold,
at the same time
it hit half an hour later,
my hands are covered in charcoal
my thoughts are sinking to the
muddy bottom,
i stare at the space just above the clock for a little,
swaying to the rhythm
"why'd you only call me when you're high?"
well,
i'm not high
but i'm drifting somewhere in between
and i only wish
i could hear your voice.