this isn't write

[37beer1drunkman]

so i'm standing there on the corner with a bag full of groceries and a postcard written to my girl, and the world flies by with out a word just the sound of all my dreams, crushed under a bus, i scream and throw a fit, spill my apples and milk on the pavement, such a shiney puddle of disappointment and despair, i wonder where i might go, to buy some more at this hour. then i bite my tongue, lick my lips and fall asleep, just thinking of her, nothing write, nothing fun, this just isn't write, but i can't find my love. so i run down the halls of an empty school at three smashing the windows and doors, the pencils fall and shatter the pen's ink on my shirt, can't write without my thoughts, can't dream without imaginations lead. then i bite my tongue and lick my lip and fall asleep again, think of her it just ain't write, but i can't find my love. poem's song, lost this fight, and this love just ain't write, miss my self and cold dark night, and nothing is alright, it's not all right, it's not write, it's how i write. i'm right!

so after that distraction i come to reveal that my boredom commands me, as i know my friends are meeting to go out and have fun i settle in for a night of paper writing and lonliness. but thats just me being a pity whore. so anyway, almost done my year, only three papers, two exams and a test to go. yay me.

by the by it's my birthday this week i'm thinking a night at club st b or maybe some other bar perhaps you folks could come out my way? some plan needs to be made for late night fri and/or sat next weekend.

maybe just a house party starting after i finish work?
let's discuss