A little steam

I just don’t want to sit here going fucking mental,
Trying to force tears as to relieve stress or hope,
But fucking stressing because I can’t cry.
 
I don’t really want tomorrow, as tomorrow suspiciously turns into today and today was the same as yesterday, you add the tomorrows becoming today’s and you have weeks, then months and I don’t even want to talk about the years, which I can only distinguish through other people’s lives.
 
I keep expecting to wake up in the 80’s; as I’m working my arse off to live in poverty, I saw a ration card on Ebay the other day and quite fancied being told how much to eat by big bro.  It would make one less choice for me to make; one less stressful resolution needed.
“Here’s your one slice of bread, water and an apricot, enjoy your breakfast”
“Well how very spiffing of you Sir, same time tomorrow, well if the queue goes at this rather agreeable speed.  Isn’t it shit weather we’re having, toodaloo”
 
I hate missing out on things, birthdays, Christmas or New Year parties,
But when I’m there I regret drinking so much I’m the last one standing.

By one I mean twat.

It’s a curse being able to drink so much without needing to pass out, as you hit a semi comatose state where you rule yourself out with the fairer sex
but
also make the loudest impassioned points that have been lost on route on topics that are alien to the group.  You think you're a real hit though.

Bugger. 

Now you add drugs to that and I think I subconsciously make sure I miss out.

I’m real fed up, just plain fed up,
But not quite able to find the ringleader of my plain existence,
So of course I look back and think when my mum accidently dropped that tin of beans on my toe, which fucked my nail, maybe that has affected me in later life...or dad drunking too much and not being home, one of them two.
 
Maybe I’m just still mad at the fact they’re making another film of Alice in Wonderland.
I just don’t like the idea, my memories are animated and now so it seems am I.