Life and death and meth and you.

Stuck between life,

Death,

Meth,

Booze

And you

I want to live but I don’t have much to give,

These days all I do is rip and run,

Take and con and have fun or at least perceived,

I need more and more when all I hear and see is how much you fuckin hate me,

I get confused and frustrated and rude,

Makes everything worse,

Start to hate life itself,

Creating my life in the image of hell,

Life I can’t run from,

Death that won’t come,

Meth that loosens screws,

Booze that makes me hate you,

You acting like I’m mad,

I’m sad,

Watching you,

seizing on any opportunity to,

Lead any conversation to a way out

Recently my life is a drought,

Never felt more hopeless distraught and without a rope,

Too scared to carry one hanging makes you choke,

Sometimes meth does too when you feel a toot drip down your throat and you start to hack,

So you head right back,

It’s the greatest shit you ever had,

You allow it because shit well it’s just so Fucking bad,

Shit I’m too fucking tweaked out,

Psychosis,

Nah I’m not with a 1 on 1 bout inside my dome shit,

Let’s find that shit with the foam,

On top of the glass,

Chug it back thank god I’m feeling it catch the speeding bullet we call the buzz,

Thank god we don’t drive no getting pulled off to the fuzz,

Carrying that brown paper bag,

All the way back to that shit motel that smell like weed and pussy and a Indian hag,

I get back to my spot,

Sit down on this glorified rack of a cot,

Stare at four walls,

But my brain is being saturated with sauce,

I can feel the simmering joy,

False in its ability to allow anything more than temporary relief I believe it——And I text you,

Little did I know my text is going to hurt,

I won’t even know or care and I’ll be so full of myself wearing my hate keeps me warm shirt,

That I’ll say the worst things,

You’ll cry,

You’ll want to die,

You’ll get mad and I’ll wonder why,

It’ll make me frustrated and grated and grate me into a man you’ve never knew and,

I honestly fucking hate him,

More and more he’s all I am I am him,

It fucking sucks,

He gives no fucks about you or anyone,

He wants me alone and by myself,

He wants me to cover my six,

When I’m by myself in the sticks of all of his FUCKED UP SHIT,

Hit a switch in my head and think,

Everyone who I know is dead is right there with me talking and clocking,

Smoking and joking,

Finessing and distressing due to everything I’ve done wrong and when I get a inkling of what it’s doing to you?

This is what I do.

Stuck between life, death, meth, and you.