the good times, darling,
are they really killing me?
or am i stuck in reverse,
are my good times really weak?
paycheck to paycheck
i keep my buzz strong,
but if the bees at all the honey
then they'll surely starve.
I am nothing but a man
in a long dark hall,
afraid to turn up the lights
but I've already seen the road.
there is no dark and no light,
only the void and me.
i write this poem a little longer,
so that i remain free.