"hets" poems
its 9:22 and here I am
I could be drunk or tired or dead
just too much happened and sleep wont come
I drank and wooed and hurt my head
and cared too much and threatened lives
9:27 no help arrives
she cant do this to me again
I spent so much time running from dark
but Saturday night to Sunday night
memories and new things have left their mark
and anger and alcohol and absolute things
9:37 an angel hets his wings
it's not the first but more acute
showering alone despite my wishes
unconscious friends and nervous twitches
sometimes it's very hard to be
the one you were before the fall
9:44 I'm still alive but now I'm sure my world's too small
Jan 21, 2012
Jan 21, 2012 at 2:56 PM UTC