i sit and fumble
as I write down each word
my legs they shake
make them stop for ******* sake
my mind is spilling
like the ink from this pen
my fingers are about to kindle
like a sewers would without a thimble
my lips they quiver
even more with each letter
i need a smoke or a drink
to allow my mind to think
ill break this cork oak
hoping everything will just flow
without reason without thought
like a **** flooding after a drought
never to be captured or held in again
but what should be found
will be lost except the one truth
which is

that I hate myself

but thats okay
cause you love me
and maybe thats enough