Sleep Easy

Finding something beautiful to write about
when I'm so horrible
is difficult.
I won't cry, that's so weak, but I do
what am I if not
worthless.

It's like i've reached a shelf reserved for bones
there's no soul in this body
lemonade and old ladies
farmer's widow thinks I'm a 'townie'
at least to hurt is to feel something

better to serate my own skin
than let you think you have the power to

suicide is beautiful in theory

I've never known an emptiness, so much fucking nothing
leaving so much room
for so much sadness

I know I'm pathetic
but who's left to care

antibiotics and amoxicillin can't help me tonight

I want to get high
for long enough to get off the floor
and see my shadow one last time
as it heels to you in it's peter-pan state of mind
and shows me who my master is once again.