It's bad metaphor Monday
and the fluorescent lights
are still pulsing.
My hair is tangled and matted
and I ran out of cigarettes
hours ago.
Deep pools of purple
are welling under my eyes
and a knot in my stomach
is chewing on my insides.
There's an acid slug
slinking around my head
and liquid candy drops
are trickling down my spine.
I picked off all my fake fingernails
because there was an itch underneath them,
and there's a clammy moisture
gathering at the bottom of my brainstem.
I haven't slept in days
and I'm still lost in last night,
because the sun don't shine
in a drug-cluttered mind
Jul 1, 2011
Jul 1, 2011 at 7:56 AM UTC
It's bad metaphor Monday
and the fluorescent lights
are still pulsing.
My hair is tangled and matted
and I ran out of cigarettes
hours ago.
Deep pools of purple
are welling under my eyes
and a knot in my stomach
is chewing on my insides.
There's an acid slug
slinking around my head
and liquid candy drops
are trickling down my spine.
I picked off all my fake fingernails
because there was an itch underneath them,
and there's a clammy moisture
gathering at the bottom of my brainstem.
I haven't slept in days
and I'm still lost in last night,
because the sun don't shine
in a drug-cluttered mind
