the title of this is dedicated to.. and just so happens to be the title of his new cd.. and although this piece really has nothing to do with him.. to my best friend.. trip.. much love dawg.. much much love.
two hits left.
of the last cigarette to my name.
i take a puff...
and smugly pull the cigarette away from my mouth
looking up.. exhaling.. that much more of my exsistence... blown away. gone.
one more hit.
and its history.
the last cigarette to my name.
no money to buy more.
no idea of where the next pack will come from.
or if it ever will.
but i need them.
so bad.
i've been sitting here.
staring out my bedroom window.
perched two stories above the world below..
above the street light that casts its
energetic sodium glow below.. illuminating its little portion of the world.
meanwhile..
my portion of the world.
lies hanging.
tattered.. and at this current moment.
in total fucking ruin.
i sat in a familiar, yet stuffy apartment.
hours ago, chewing on a piece of paper..
that i was promised would set me free..
and in the time that has passed
i have learned more about hate,
anger, depravity, and solitarity then
I ever, ever wish to know.
I sat on my front porch for hours
Waiting..
Just waiting for someone to let me inside,
All the while looking around at the night
Trying to process all the thoughts
Running through my mind.
And it came down to one thing.
This is it, this is my payback
This is my punishment, this is for
Every single un-returned phone call,
For every single bridge burned, and re-burned.
This is my hell.
To be cold, and alone with nothing left
But my thoughts, thoughts that are struggling to break free from their creator
So that they may destroy him,
And when they do break the hold, they look
And realize that all to see,
Is disappointment, because the creator
Lies in a heap of broken rubble and dust.
This is what I've earned.
This is what life comes down to.
This is fear.
Staring me in the face.
Myself.
Cold.
Alone.
Helpless.
And I hate it, but it's of my own doing.
And I am the sole owner of it.
And I fucking hate it.
I absolutely fucking hate it.
[This message has been edited by zero9zero (edited 27 July 2001).]
two hits left.
of the last cigarette to my name.
i take a puff...
and smugly pull the cigarette away from my mouth
looking up.. exhaling.. that much more of my exsistence... blown away. gone.
one more hit.
and its history.
the last cigarette to my name.
no money to buy more.
no idea of where the next pack will come from.
or if it ever will.
but i need them.
so bad.
i've been sitting here.
staring out my bedroom window.
perched two stories above the world below..
above the street light that casts its
energetic sodium glow below.. illuminating its little portion of the world.
meanwhile..
my portion of the world.
lies hanging.
tattered.. and at this current moment.
in total fucking ruin.
i sat in a familiar, yet stuffy apartment.
hours ago, chewing on a piece of paper..
that i was promised would set me free..
and in the time that has passed
i have learned more about hate,
anger, depravity, and solitarity then
I ever, ever wish to know.
I sat on my front porch for hours
Waiting..
Just waiting for someone to let me inside,
All the while looking around at the night
Trying to process all the thoughts
Running through my mind.
And it came down to one thing.
This is it, this is my payback
This is my punishment, this is for
Every single un-returned phone call,
For every single bridge burned, and re-burned.
This is my hell.
To be cold, and alone with nothing left
But my thoughts, thoughts that are struggling to break free from their creator
So that they may destroy him,
And when they do break the hold, they look
And realize that all to see,
Is disappointment, because the creator
Lies in a heap of broken rubble and dust.
This is what I've earned.
This is what life comes down to.
This is fear.
Staring me in the face.
Myself.
Cold.
Alone.
Helpless.
And I hate it, but it's of my own doing.
And I am the sole owner of it.
And I fucking hate it.
I absolutely fucking hate it.
[This message has been edited by zero9zero (edited 27 July 2001).]
