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"roache" poems
Life got too hard, and he just gave up he tipped his ***** bottle swirled into his cup. No ice please I hate 34 degrees hurts my teeth they start to chatter then I start shaking my knees. This bars my Christmas my birthday, my new years, no ones here its my bar at my house I sleep in my sleeping bag full of beer cotton mouth. The mice even left. Without that molecule I couldn’t snore a wink the sheep in my dreams are drunk they stumble fences and pant bleats They guilt me to sleep not calm soothe or meek they taunt me of loss of love and a family that cant speak The roaches are gone they stopped playing cards I watched them wall glide and asked them to stay in my floor Then the roache left too. It seems cant do much drunk klutz falling over tables maybe my liver loves me maybe that’s stable. I go shopping for droppings for things that I need if I loved myself a bit maybe I'd do speed. End it quicker. The cirrhosis is my friend he gives me gifts cramps in the morning and blood in my **** I think if my liver were the garbage man. He'd bring me good news but I think liver got mad, downed the last of the ***** My liver left too. Now I'm a maggot bag stinking up the place...No one knows. Who knows.
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Mar 29, 2013
Mar 29, 2013 at 11:57 PM UTC
Of Mice, Cirrhosis, Roaches, Oh Ya....And a Drunk.