It's 2:02
And once again I have
No idea what to do
The ground has once again
Started to shake
And the vision of my
Blood stained eyes
Are the first thing
That signals the start of
My demise.
The hallucinations
Are clouding
I feel the perspiration.
I feel my chest cave
And my wings tear
As I get dizzy
The air gets warm and I see everything blackout..

I saw someone I knew from high school
as I was walking into the bar.
He was doing shots with some other guy
in a corner booth on the other end of the room.
so I strode over and made myself at home
showing them both how to really drink.

Then I recognized a few of the girls they were with,
well one in particular, and that was all that mattered.
The instant I recognized her I knew it was a dream.
I knew that it couldn't be real.
She was pretty, but I didn't talk to her right away,
I had my fair share of ***** until everyone wanted
to take the party back to someone's house.

I saw her glancing my way,
and vaguely realized I was making her glance.
Making her steal quick looks at me among the crowd.
Making her smile at me.

When I convinced myself of this I walked over to her
and made nonsensical small talk as we walked out of the party.

She took me to her apartment, filled with cats.

She started to cry, inexplicably, and I folded her up into my arms.

And I flew us into the sky, slowly floating between buildings and trees.

"Why does this have to be a dream?" She whispered in my ear.
And I chuckled quietly.

Because I knew it was actually me saying it.

I only like you when your drunk
so save me for later.
Because I don't really care about you
I just care how much you care about me.
So sail with me, are you seaworthy?
Seven shots of brandy,
seven beers,
try and keep up, okay?

before you **** yourself,
just remember
that there are
places you have not been
and things you have not seen.
and poems to awe
art to draw
fields to walk through,
people to talk to,
music to take in,
games to win,
and books to be read.

so why,
oh why
do you wish
to be dead?

Oh no, please say it isn't so.
I've allowed this thing to grow into something I can no longer control.
I'm somehow functioning past the point where I should have stopped functioning long ago.
The person who I once was,
the person who I wanted to be,
it's all just dust now scattered by the wind.
I don't even know who I am anymore.
Some stranger stares back at me when I look into the mirror.
He whispers, "you've become everything you've always hated."
I stare back and ask, "how does it feel?"

Have you ever visited a public *******
When you were really bursting for a dung
And sadly found the only cubicle
Was vile and ill-prepared to meet your needs,
Its stench beyond your wildest nightmare dread?

And yet you bravely held your breath and looking
Down into the cracked, caked enamel bowl
Beheld a horrid, putrid panful there,
The likes of which you never dreamed you'd find
And live to tell the ******* tale to mortal man.

About a hundred people's lurking turds
All heaped and piled up to the very brim,
Some soft and runny, squashed down by the weight
Of countless others, some smudged with blood
Lying there like half-cooked hamburgers.

And there was barely ******* space in the pan
For you to add a steaming trio of your own
To the rancid, obscene horrors lurking there
As you crouched, puking, with your ******* round your ankles
Terrified in case they fell onto the ****-swamped floor.

And you noticed with your reeling senses
That there wasn't any ****** paper either,
Nor had there been for many a long day
Judging from the walls' awesome sorry state
All covered in ****** brown elevens. (SEE NOTE BELOW)