You sit and write from an ugly place,

A bitter hole with lustful memories,

Sour stench of cigarette smoke permeates the air,

Dim lights scream for attention

Dim, that's what he feels, dim and void



He doesn't know what they want anymore,

He can't speak it out straight and they never wanna' know anyway,

For them, he's just a temporary sit-in,

One that's filling the void,

Void, that's what he feels, void and desolate



She confides as a friend, spills out her guts,

He absorbs and lets out a voice where needed,

Questions come pondering,

They never really see him there more than the role he plays,

And they have wishful dreams of optimism,

Optimism, he never had a full pint



You nod and you acknowledge,

But you never really understand their choices,

You never really know, why they say no,or yes,

Time forgot your conversations and you forgot who to talk to anymore,

All of them seem to be ruptured vessels,

Amidst this sea of chaos



He writes from an ugly place,

A bitter hell with a dancing demon,

He just pleased the inner pleasure,

He retreats into slumber and screams a thousand names,

None will respond, they are all sailing away,

Ruptured vessels with an island to reach.