24 and drunk
with nothing to do
no faith in the place you were born
(the whole damn place,
all of it
every inch
except for maybe in the middle of the
rain forests)
laying on the stains
from last night's binge
and the rodent's parade
around in hidden places
always keeping you company
when you are alone
(or not even home).
there is hope only
because you are young.
the timer goes on.
No comments:
Post a Comment