life aint free
it costs.
in the days you roam around lost,
wondering what to do,
who to screw,
thinking of people you knew.
go to work and wonder why
will you die,
this way.
is this just a phase, or a sick joke being played,
by those that made,
it.
do they have it better, you wonder, getting upset.
is it a dream, clock screams, wake up.
do it all again.
pay your dues, your toll,
life aint free,
it costs.
When I woke up on saturday I could still smell
the stagnant smoke filled air from the night before.
Beer bottles littered the kitchen countertops like so
many bodies spread across the couches and floor.
I wake up early, even after a night of heavy drinking,
my head pounding out and my sinuses clogged. Alka
Seltzer will do the trick, at least for now. Later though
after the headache wears off, the dull throb of my hangover
will kick in, making everything seem slightly hazy.
I find an empty spot on the couch and turn on the tv. As
the old sitcoms come and go, so do the bodies…First the
dreary eyed blinking then a groan..the jingling of keys
and then the slam of a door. By three the house is empty,
nothing left except the memories, the bottles, and myself.
Guess its time to start cleaning.
sneaky bathroom calls
from stalls
in dirty club halls
you ride the ride
of changing tides
but always hide
your desire, your inner fire, your constant ire
in a social haze
an alcoholic daze
a schoolgirls craze
a schoolgirls craze
