The End Of The Madness...Drunk Writing Death.
Imagine this...
Drunk. Mum and father... (never married... not well aquinted).
Perhaps you could say she was "date-raped".
I didn't meet my father until I was 11.
I concider him shallow. His family, In my eyes, is fake as fake can be.
"Big-mouth strikes again" ....
I scurry happily to my rattling refridgerator... it feeds my need.
I drink. Consume. It's what life is all about.
Consume.
........Try.
Consume, and then TRY.
Try to be accepted. Try to be normal. Try to be an angel.
Yes?
When I was young I wanted to die, but I didn't know what it meant.
When I realized what death was, my body gave out on me. My breathing pattern was never the same. When I think about breathing, I think about death. This breath is precious. (and lost) (never to come again)
SSHHHH....
Sparkelhorse feeds my soul.
I believe this is the end.
Drunken. Seems like a dream. (don't look down on me) (please).
I am so very tired (and so very alive)...
.... And now, inspired, by an experiance I had...
(forgive me, here is....)
At a bus station I sat. Weary. Sad. My eyes hung so low. A man stood mext to me, with snake-skin boots and a suit case of grey. I wondered if only clothing dwelled there (in his baggage). Knowing that I carried in my suitcase... wine, lights, candles, secrets... eternity. He tapped his foot to god-knows-what... (a song he learned as a child... in my head, that's what I imagined).
I was so very tired (as I am now).... (but too stubborn to shy away).
That morninig, so many things were on my drunken mind... rollng cigarettes. Green lights, spider-webs...
Men. Wounded... asking a scared 19-year-0ld girl for money... (how could I say no?)
(you hurt my soul).
Don't worry babydoll. We'll all be okay... in the end.
......(I've let go)... (My mind races).............
The End (of "drunken-writing night")
p.s. .... and I only had ONE "pee break" !!!
Ciao.
Drunk. Mum and father... (never married... not well aquinted).
Perhaps you could say she was "date-raped".
I didn't meet my father until I was 11.
I concider him shallow. His family, In my eyes, is fake as fake can be.
"Big-mouth strikes again" ....
I scurry happily to my rattling refridgerator... it feeds my need.
I drink. Consume. It's what life is all about.
Consume.
........Try.
Consume, and then TRY.
Try to be accepted. Try to be normal. Try to be an angel.
Yes?
When I was young I wanted to die, but I didn't know what it meant.
When I realized what death was, my body gave out on me. My breathing pattern was never the same. When I think about breathing, I think about death. This breath is precious. (and lost) (never to come again)
SSHHHH....
Sparkelhorse feeds my soul.
I believe this is the end.
Drunken. Seems like a dream. (don't look down on me) (please).
I am so very tired (and so very alive)...
.... And now, inspired, by an experiance I had...
(forgive me, here is....)
At a bus station I sat. Weary. Sad. My eyes hung so low. A man stood mext to me, with snake-skin boots and a suit case of grey. I wondered if only clothing dwelled there (in his baggage). Knowing that I carried in my suitcase... wine, lights, candles, secrets... eternity. He tapped his foot to god-knows-what... (a song he learned as a child... in my head, that's what I imagined).
I was so very tired (as I am now).... (but too stubborn to shy away).
That morninig, so many things were on my drunken mind... rollng cigarettes. Green lights, spider-webs...
Men. Wounded... asking a scared 19-year-0ld girl for money... (how could I say no?)
(you hurt my soul).
Don't worry babydoll. We'll all be okay... in the end.
......(I've let go)... (My mind races).............
The End (of "drunken-writing night")
p.s. .... and I only had ONE "pee break" !!!
Ciao.