Cold eyes, and colder feet, sleeping outside in the rain just shake the hands that we need.
Everyone, well close to anyway, blindly searching for a noose that fits our lifestyle comfortably.
Drink it down, collapse those veins, suck it in or force yourself to take shapes after the morning alarm, it’s all the same, and it’s all too much.
Did you hear who she fucked and why?
Water cooler stories laced with a malicious aftertaste, shoe’s on the other foot and lets throw a ticker-tape parade, and it’s all too much for me. There’s a slow forceful grinding on the tips of my teeth, not much now but the nerves will kick in, trust me.
Twenty-four years and I’ve never felt such a burning resentment for things that I used to love.
So bag up, swallow those pills, make the call to a doctor with a vacuum and scalpel to use, is another mouth to perpetuate this filth really the best thing for this world?
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