ode to the promise of oblivion
avenues of solitude were really caverns in my mind on that cold day in september when i sat aroused at the possibilities that could occur and would most likely happen all too soon now that the clocks were sitting in the grabage cans and my apartment was unfamiliar, even to myself that went from wall to wall feeling for something that would make me comfortable, but to no avail--
the television was on with the sound off as i preferred the death soundtrack to be old jazz rather than the maudlin sitcoms and flashy talkshows. i couldn't hear anything now if i wanted to except the voices and what sounded like an open desert highway in my head--oh the pain like a swimming pool i could feel myself getting lighter and lighter and the alcohol comes and goes swiftly cans discarded on the floor covered in towels for the easy cleanup 'cause by god i know it's gonna bleed and someone may soon have to clean up this mess. gone. down. open bottles of anti-depressants, anti-psychotics, anti-awake, anti-eat, anti-fuck, anti-cry, anti-love, anti-smile, anti-shit, anti-die, but oh they've come to me now and they are all open and i'm swallowing swallowing what will later be known as way too much the music i see speeds up and the shrunken heads are dancing i should be nude oh someone will undress me shortly going in and out of consciousness the band stops i wanna vomit my head hits the tile and i know no more.
until they're cutting my clothes off a disgusting body shoving tubes in and out of my throat i'm clogged up vomiting charcoal catharsis seizure party i'm ready to die. no monitors, no lites, no feeding tubes, just the dry throat and a smile from a stranger.
oh let me go now, rip these needles from my arms and stand me up triumphant in my self-defeat i'll sing songs for you if you help me. my arms are bleeding self injury like i'd done for a million years before eyes heavy and the fever hits me i'm burning must reach the end and death could not be this horrible but i'm suffering now and the curtain is still rising on Wednesday.
just lock me away so that i can realize it wasn't a dream.
avenues of solitude were really caverns in my mind on that cold day in september when i sat aroused at the possibilities that could occur and would most likely happen all too soon now that the clocks were sitting in the grabage cans and my apartment was unfamiliar, even to myself that went from wall to wall feeling for something that would make me comfortable, but to no avail--
the television was on with the sound off as i preferred the death soundtrack to be old jazz rather than the maudlin sitcoms and flashy talkshows. i couldn't hear anything now if i wanted to except the voices and what sounded like an open desert highway in my head--oh the pain like a swimming pool i could feel myself getting lighter and lighter and the alcohol comes and goes swiftly cans discarded on the floor covered in towels for the easy cleanup 'cause by god i know it's gonna bleed and someone may soon have to clean up this mess. gone. down. open bottles of anti-depressants, anti-psychotics, anti-awake, anti-eat, anti-fuck, anti-cry, anti-love, anti-smile, anti-shit, anti-die, but oh they've come to me now and they are all open and i'm swallowing swallowing what will later be known as way too much the music i see speeds up and the shrunken heads are dancing i should be nude oh someone will undress me shortly going in and out of consciousness the band stops i wanna vomit my head hits the tile and i know no more.
until they're cutting my clothes off a disgusting body shoving tubes in and out of my throat i'm clogged up vomiting charcoal catharsis seizure party i'm ready to die. no monitors, no lites, no feeding tubes, just the dry throat and a smile from a stranger.
oh let me go now, rip these needles from my arms and stand me up triumphant in my self-defeat i'll sing songs for you if you help me. my arms are bleeding self injury like i'd done for a million years before eyes heavy and the fever hits me i'm burning must reach the end and death could not be this horrible but i'm suffering now and the curtain is still rising on Wednesday.
just lock me away so that i can realize it wasn't a dream.
VIEW 23 of 23 COMMENTS
fiesty:
o0o talking to a babe huh awesome good luck with that I'll let ya get back to buisness lol. 
fiesty:
aww thanks darlin!!! huggss you're a sweetheart