drinking the last drop of my life away

hoping ill find it another day

anything that comes out is lies, is what others say

I try my best to communicate

with my inner being and what some call fate

how can I when I feel the spiritual hate

I wanna speak but afraid I'll say unnecessary crap

to be honest my life is just a demonic trap

I can't remember the last time I ever ran a lap

my family is worried and im a huge mess of a disaster

Im trying to run faster and faster

Im gonna get known as a ****'d up baster

my emotional touch has lost all feel

because we kissed and I know it was real

I am your one true only deal

my mistakes seem to cross along more

I love it all too much, but I don't won't to be a bore

I wouldn't want to get looked as *****

my body wiggled and falls like it was reborn

I just wanna keep the reply botton on to this ****

gosh it's much better then eating a can of corn

I have problems that seem like children and have fun

they never quit they seem to like this run

it could take in any place, like in rainor in the sun

I crawl into my nook under a warm blanket of self-love. Darkness fills my void and I succumb to sleep.

The sheep I count are green and three-legged, there’s daisies for clouds and orange grass. I’m soaring through space outside of some distant planet’s atmosphere. I’m on my feet, on my block.

Suddenly, the warmth is pulled from me like a turkey baster fills with broth. And I feel a bony hand on the square of my back. It’s cold and it seems to come into me.

I’m wide awake.

The unwavering attendance of the Ghost Insomnia fills me like hate. I toss I turn, I feel it so close. It begins to warm me from the inside out. My eyes soon feel fuzzy, and bounce around in my skull; I can no longer read the time on the clock. My lips feel chapped shut, I can only breathe through my nose now. Shapes being to shift.

Where are you taking me?

Do you know what you’ve done to me?

And yet, each time morning arrives and the golden sun stretches across the sky and peaks through my window, I watch it do so. I watch it as the dark night sky soon turns lighter. It then becomes a light blue - the color of day and quickly transitions to a honey colored haze.

The sandbags under my eyes could’ve saved New Orleans.

Where are you taking me?

A chalky, sepia-washed room seen through an ailing CRT. Vantablack lines sprawl across my gnarled face in patterns, playing games with the sun that blares on through the rangy blinds.

Digital clock: 2:43

A cardinal red cigarette pack in my right hand, a turkey baster in the other, submerged deep within the sheet's motherly void. The simmering glow of the hallway dances like a pendulum; a vicious debutante, waiting to coerce me into life. I am enveloped by some capricious rhythm that has no origin, and no destination.
I'm coming to uncertain terms with this lucid halcyon.

Ink drips, from the pillow to my shoulder. I am currently a piece of fiction, held within a lissome frame. This is complete autonomy. Nothing is as it really was, only what it should've have been from the very start. A muted slur from beyond the window comes hurtling through my head. It starts to look like a tumor tree, having its branches, limbs, and spine torn to and fro in such a hideous manner. I've let something go to my head. The dream is broken, through no request of my own.

OK! First the lollipop in the jar is missing
And her feet are itchy, help us please...
There's a cow doing cartwheels?
And if I might ask did your pigeon sneeze?
Reels of footage were left in the turkey baster,
Am I wrong? You obviously don't hear lemons
Whistling though, of course. And these days the
Emporer of Donutland is poor, better send him
Another hammed cannery of doom, let alone two.
And this TV has too many billygoats fishing!
And I'll be monster,
She did grow a hat!
Only minus the notes.
Just as big smoking jerky,
BLINDING, teeth raising...!
Chewing itself a thrill.

Turkey is spot-on;
guess I found my calling as
a master baster.

every month her body ejected dead cells
ran down her leg a red streak
oh the joys of womanhood she would sing
won't some man impregnate me
and stop all this needless bloodshed
a turkey baster will do
anything to get that ***** to swim upstream.

I gave my daughter $10,000 for Christmas and she gave me a hammer and a box of nails.
I tried to raise her properly but obviously I failed.
I give her $10,000 every year and she gives me a piece of crap.
It takes all of my will power to stop myself from giving her a slap.

Last year, the ungrateful witch gave me a plunger.
Now I'm broke and about to die because of hunger.
I'm not a rich man but when it comes to the ten grand, she expects to receive it.
When it comes to the lousy gifts she gives, it's probably hard for you to believe it.

One year she gave me a turkey baster and another year, she gave me a broken rod and reel.
If she wasn't my only daughter, I would hire a hitman to ****.
She demands $10,000 every year even though it's so steep.
She never buys me a good present because she's too cheap.