God, who can tell me the difference? as if
I even care about the difference, I know because I feel
The difference, I can feel it, life is so real
Because what difference, does it all matter…? What? What can
Be the reason for a difference, when there can’t be any difference
In me. It is there, I mean, I can see it, smell it,
The Doctors told me it is there, and now I cannot see the difference
In whether or not, I **** well take it, smoke it, drink it,
Hell at the difference! I will not be any different except happy, except
Sliding down the path of feeling good, even though for a short time,
Even though for anytime, what difference is there anyway, does it, will it all make?
(an easy feeling of sliding, so downward, so fast, falls on me, falls
like the head of a pin, looks up and sees me, as it feels so **** good
with just a glimpse of lakeshore looking backward, over my shoulder
as I sit here. no television. the sound blaring. and it is off. and the window
is down, and I am riding. in the car that is not there. better off. the distance
looks crowded, and feels so pretty and nice. and life is mine and there are things
that make me look. this way. then that. and make it all blow the dust off
and leave. me here. crying and feeling your arms. while your gone. and feeling
her arms wrapped around me, and knowing that she will likely *****.
and moan and gripe, but who cares because now it is gone,.and an extra two
on top of two. and that makes four, god it makes four. makes four. makes four…)
* Who can tell what sleep I have had, nothing no more than a minutes sleep
Is why my hair looks the way it does, and make-up is not made up and
The sleepy feeling grabbed me strong and put these jeans upon my body
And they are mine, they fit, I swear, and the sweater fits too, it is not his it is mine
Besides, I feel like hell and death have run together and have clouded me,
And taken away my judgment, and left me here alone, can you see me?
I know it, I know it, it makes sense as dogs make sense to lying in the grass
And birds make sense playing in the limbs, and as I make sense, making sense
Of the feelings that are lost to me now, and please, please, please, I do not
Need the sitter, or someone watching me, or watching me die, please
I just need something, a little thing, a little more, just a little more.
