-last thing i could understand
that she said
oh my God....(then sighs)
my father can feel this
damn you're an evil boy
as i sweat and
kept on rowing
the next moment noticeable
was hazy mountain dusted
sunrise
slammed shut by steel
and gray thunder heads-
all the more reason
to never stop the
drinking-
"there's hope for the bone yard"
the jack bottle collection,
at least for one more season
it's four in the morning
in another dream hole
and i'd play that
bothered guitar if
they weren't sleeping-
if it wasn't four in the
afternoon for me...
-i'd be asleep like them too
instead of stewing my
self absorbed child
in a broth of less than
what could be.
No comments:
Post a Comment