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I don't know how to type, so
last night
I started taking free lessons.

The learning isn't hard, but
the forgetting
is going to be a struggle.

Twenty five years
of bad habits.

****.
I could apply this
to anything
in my life.
When first we met
I thought that you'd
save me.
Now I know that
you were just sent to
betray me.
Crazy.

When I placed my bet
I never thought
it'd be
another twelve days
spent down in
my basement.
Shame me.

Crazy eyes
blame me,
shame me, please just
don't tell me lies.

When first we met
I told you to
shame me
all the time.

Now these days
just flow by
all the time.

Gotten too proud,
too full of ourselves to
walk that line.

That used to divide us
all the time.
Shame me,
blame me,
baby.
There's a button in my psyche.
It's not big,
It's not red.
It's buried somewhere deep
in the back of my head.

My thoughts reach towards it.

It's unassuming,
almost accidental.
Black in color
and not clearly labeled,
but pleasant to the touch.

A mental finger caresses it in slow,
small circles.

It's a super power,
a curse, a boon, a blight.
It makes my eyes glaze over
with drunken delight.
It turns up time,
and slows my mind.
It turns off the world,
it makes day into night.

It turns me into someone
that you wouldn't like.

It makes everyone who loves me
disappear.

I fear the next time I press it,
I won't know how
to bring
them back.
It's a bit dusty
for years it ain't been pressed
I'm a bit rusty
but sure as hell ain't depressed

I figure this is just how it feels
being sober.
I'll burn for this.
It may not be today,
or tomorrow,
or twenty years from now
but,
trust me.
One day I'll burn.
I'll burn.

Through the flames
I'll gaze
into the tear-brimmed eyes
of everyone who's ever loved me.

They'll be waving
and crying,
but they'll be smiling too,
because they knew.
They all knew.
They always knew.
I never fooled any of them.
Not a single
******* one.

Honestly,
I never even fooled
myself.

Destined for the ashtray.
A charred, black fate.
Fuel for the Lord of the pit,
hotdog on a stick
bobbing and rotating
above my head.





That smells so good..
Up too late
tonight I've stayed.

Blessed be tomorrow,
Sanctimony of weary.

Can't wait for
Sleep then
work, then
sleep.
Ever have something to say,
something that you REALLY want to say?
Something you're dying to express?

But you just... let it go.
Because you know
you'll never be able
to get it all out.

Now imagine that feeling
for every conversation,
every sentence,
in your entire life.


God I want a whiskey.
A quiet revulsion sets in
with eyes opened,
but only looking inwards.

There's a painting
hung on a blue wall,
and he wishes it was him.

Quietly, revulsion creeps in.
Always listening
with a subtle grin.
Nary a sin.

Ceiling fans spin
on
and on
whipping motes
and dead skin
into a frothy,
stale tasting mix.

Choking down every gulp
of air, quietly revolted,
yet ever smiling.
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