and really, i loved the madness
your wings enveloped me
and i threw you to the ground
my back is bending further and further. hurt everywhere, all the time. i am at some low level of sickness just about always. ground covered in snow/feel it in every previously broken bone. Afraid to tell anyone or go to the doctor because, well obviously, what if it is something bad? Can't I just die in peace in my own due time, without some fucking quack butcher sawing up my gutty-wuts and telling me I'm an asshole for doing drugs all the time and eating terrible food and never letting him poke and prod me before?
a clever aside:
My throat is slimy
my nose drips
my head is bangin'
but not because what I'm listening to
My eyes are dry
my lungs feel ?thick?
no one listens to my diatribes on
My toes do this thing
where they feel like they break
and get unbearably hot.
Please, prepare my wake.
Surely, it won't be long
I am cold to the bone
can't lift the whiskey,
is there no end to this hell? I'm alone!
Stressed and depressed
clenched my teeth till they cracked
not like I use them,
for my tummy is all
it rumbles and grumbles
bitching just so,
I'm afraid one day it shall give up
and crawl right out of the mouth-
my hands hate the work
and work hates the hands
but the rent must be paid!
you know we are subservient to the
jackboots and batons out the door
and needles and pins within
my back may be broken (literally)
but I'm thankful my teeth have so much
Skin. (did that work? did you get it?)
Clearly I'm dying,
but what's to be done?
the whinging won't do
and the complaining's all gone!
Because someone said it better, first.