where I neglect all of my friends
and myself.
And I stop answering the phone
and I don't pay attention at work.
It doesn't matter what I eat,
what I drink
what I smoke.
It doesn't matter that I'm
losing my voice.
Bleh.
I hate when I get like this.
It's almost like getting so drunk that you black out,
(which I've never done),
then having to clean up all the messes
you made while you were on your
drunken rampage.
Except I'm just neglecting
and I'll have to pull the
various weeds and clean
the dust
that collected
while I was being selfish.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
3 comments:
btw, this certainly is not a poem.
Maybe not...but it could be a song.
Weed Killer...Roundup.
I feel you, Ames. Stay in the shade, you'll piece it all together soon.
Post a Comment