been drinkin

whiskey all night long.

no beach with an hourglass

can save me at the moment.

maybe it’s not over – it could be.

it’s true that two way streets

can crash emotives and anger

after miles and miles

travelin Pennsylvania towns.

get in the car again –

slam the door shut.

eyes blood shot and almost shut.

blurry all before me –

grab the bottle –

taking swig after swig.

later pull over –

fumble out the keys

out of the ignition –

cars on a cliff –

oh fucking well.


I don’t want to feel,

it’s not all that it’s cracked up to be.

it’s like doing meth –

it rots one from the inside out.

the only rehab left

are the words that carry pain everlasting.

it’s quite the saviour.