fading in and out of nightmare and nothing
trying to recall that simultaneous warm pulpy ******
what, do you expect me to grit my teeth until bed
without any sort of instant gratification?
am i a ******* dad?
you asked me if i have things to say
and when i'm not controlled by the
constant ache to feel loved
and getting stuck with wounded animals
instead
yes, my guts churn for all the
things i haven't met
that i've yet to make an extension of
'cause i don't wanna  be queen of the gas station
anymore, i guess