I was borderline batshit,
I hadn't slept for two nights,
and every time I closed my
eyes, my desperate mind
sent itself into R.E.M.

The hallucinations
were only fun up to a point,
as soon as I saw monkeys in
gas masks, I fixed another ***,
drank three or four cups,
I promised I'd wait up,
and Ms. Gloria had promised to come by last night.

My belly began to roar,
I ate a saltine, one **** packet
left, and then no groceries.
I opened the freezer,
a couple trays of ice,
half a fifth of *****,
"Ah, hell," and ****** off
the remainder in three or four hits.

I turned on the tv,
I forgot their was a war going on.
It didn't take long for my mind to bite.
I took a front row seat for the
viewing of my ego's defeat.
I was holding up well,
using the gunshots as a
backing symphony to
some poetry I was clumsily
penning.
It was something about
texting girls and semi-trucks,
but I lost the ******* notepad
I was writing it on,
I stood up to go take a ****,
and my head fell to the soles,
back met carpet quickly,
monkeys and gas masks,
I heard my phone ring,
I rolled on my side,
in an attempt to crawl to it,
then woke up 6-hours later,
to someone pounding the ****
out of my door.