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And...
written by First2Last10:10 PM 2/6/05This poem is shit
why am i writing it?
right now my head hurts
and im listening to Kurt (cobain)
and this room is spinning round
where only loneliness is found
and not a thought i've thunk is straight
and all these words all spill out late
and my tears are stuck right there
and my lies are laced with care
and it hurts to tell the truth
as im fleeing my soft youth
and everything is here
yet not a single thing seems clear
and nothings feels like pain
but right now its all the same
and every smile ive seen is fake
and my whole life was a mistake
and nothings feeling right
as i wait to pick my fight
and i look around the walls
as my awareness starts to fall
not knowing was is said
while im lying on her bed
just carrying on my thoughts
as my brain and liver rot
right now im sitteing here
without an ounce of fear
because right now nothings worth carring
and when im drunk i cant stop swearing
and right now she knows im drunk
just becuase i dont have spunk
and a songs stuck in my head
and i feel like not much is being said
and this poem probably wont flow
and still all i know is i dont know
and i keep picking at my face
and my whole life seems out of place
and still, not a thought is clear
Monday i was drowning in my tears
and i cut my arms and hands
and not a person understands
and these thoughts race round my head
and all thats white seems black and red
now only seeing this;
the blue lines on this white strip
and all i want is to feel warm
and i dont get why i was born
and i hate the fact i was
and im obnoxious just becuase
and right now i dont think much
except for this shit and such
and all these thoughts were what ive thunk
just what i was thinking when im drunk
and i look at these thoughts bunched in my head
still feeling like not much is being said. |
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Author's footnotes and comments on this Poem:
a long drunk poem
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