syd
Bluelighter
- Joined
- Feb 18, 2005
- Messages
- 273
It’s hard to believe all those people were just here.
Broken and trashed with alcohol related everything, drugs and apathy helping them fake it.
They talk and they talk and they fucking talk.
All the while you sit and try to hear to the song on your stereo.
What’s up man?
And this stranger, this fucking guest of a guest, had the balls to ask you the question you loath above all others.
You alright?
And what exactly were you supposed to say to that.
No, I’m not alright.
I am constantly on the verge of some sort of unacceptable behavior.
Constantly worried my life will never add up to anything more than empty bottles.
Everyday pushing people further away before they have a chance to hurt me.
I’m worried my various addictions no longer have any redeeming value.
I’m always throwing up my hands, always shrugging my shoulders, always saying, “I don’t know,” or “I gotta go,” or my favorite, “I forgot.”
My life has become a series of long longings.
I can’t talk.
I have diarrhea of the mouth when I do.
I think I’ve got cancer, emphysema, heartburn and an ingrown toenail.
I sabotage myself so I’m never let down.
Instead of saying any of this you looked towards you drink, and downed it while mumbling something about being tired.
Broken and trashed with alcohol related everything, drugs and apathy helping them fake it.
They talk and they talk and they fucking talk.
All the while you sit and try to hear to the song on your stereo.
What’s up man?
And this stranger, this fucking guest of a guest, had the balls to ask you the question you loath above all others.
You alright?
And what exactly were you supposed to say to that.
No, I’m not alright.
I am constantly on the verge of some sort of unacceptable behavior.
Constantly worried my life will never add up to anything more than empty bottles.
Everyday pushing people further away before they have a chance to hurt me.
I’m worried my various addictions no longer have any redeeming value.
I’m always throwing up my hands, always shrugging my shoulders, always saying, “I don’t know,” or “I gotta go,” or my favorite, “I forgot.”
My life has become a series of long longings.
I can’t talk.
I have diarrhea of the mouth when I do.
I think I’ve got cancer, emphysema, heartburn and an ingrown toenail.
I sabotage myself so I’m never let down.
Instead of saying any of this you looked towards you drink, and downed it while mumbling something about being tired.
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