head low and stinking drunk
I swore at the burn in my gut
that I will not submit these standards
and turn my back on a great sin.
Happy Birthday, the gift you give yourself is lack.
She is coming for you. Growing into someone,
who will complete the circle
who will be satisfied
with who you are building.
Tell that to the boulder I push up the hill
you hear me intuition?!
tell that to the weight of the averted eyes,
from the chicken wings with painted faces,
and hair so blonde, it uses the light to tease you.
Webcam gaudy,
dark eyes stare through you,
searching for an answer to a very tacky lust.
fuck, this fight, its boring.
Awkward mornings as empty as the bottles
that line my floor
as the rug I've been meaning to get.
I won't apologize for my rockstar penchants,
they hang as pendants resplendent with a glow so false,
Las Vegas shakes its addicted head.
I watch the spoonful of elixir,
that I carefully cooked,
slip from my fingers,
and crash onto the linoleum.
All I'm left with is a lucidity that led me here,
and a mess to clean up.
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