deepundergroundpoetry.com
These Hopeless Feelings
I sit here
in my motel room
smoking cigarettes
just to pass the time
staring blankly
at pale blue walls
waiting for a phonecall
i know isn't coming
hopelessness and depression
are like crushing weights on my chest
there's a spoon
and three syringes
in my back pack
no dope to fill either them
or myself, no temporary escape
for me tonite
no way to quiet these razorblade
and kerosene blues
wailing from inside my soul
i dream of suicide
of the last poem i write
the last load of meth
i shoot into my veins
to bad it won't be tonite
in my motel room
smoking cigarettes
just to pass the time
staring blankly
at pale blue walls
waiting for a phonecall
i know isn't coming
hopelessness and depression
are like crushing weights on my chest
there's a spoon
and three syringes
in my back pack
no dope to fill either them
or myself, no temporary escape
for me tonite
no way to quiet these razorblade
and kerosene blues
wailing from inside my soul
i dream of suicide
of the last poem i write
the last load of meth
i shoot into my veins
to bad it won't be tonite
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