2:14 am

it is 2:14 am.
i want a drink.
we got nuthin in the house
ive been sober, i don't want to be
you call me on the phone

i want you to talk to me
you say
were you sleeping
when you call you are three shots in
i need something
it is heavy on me
i am 26 and have nothing
i will be 36 and have nothing
i want sweaty hair and no fat,
coddled, harsh a so close hold
it is 2:19 you are sleeping
you are really far away
to say i would throw away everything when i already have
isn't much
but is what i have,
i will
i want to be a farmer
i want liquid colors, sun and small bugs in my clothing
you can only play jazz when it is quiet enough
i want one hot shot of whiskey in my throat
to go down into my stomach and remind me of
what it is like
to sleep beside someone who mixes up into dreams
splattered sepia tones
to be like that so hard tones
here is how: sleep until you can't anymore and then,
when you wake up, get high go back to sleep and then then,
when you wake up that time, lift your pen,
it might be ready,
it probably won't.

No comments:

Post a Comment