The smoke in front of the mirror
Sometimes I forget why I’m fucked up until I’m sober.
I can’t remember when it started until it’s over.
My mind is clear and I fucking regret it.
I’m standing outside a stall and I’ll never forget it.
That’s left in a different poem though.
I’m scraping my money to let smoke blow.
I don’t need help more than comfort
Not like a lover but a mother.
I need a stomach to lay my head
In a place that is not my bed.
I need a hand run through my hair
Not someone to tell me they care.
If I could forget the past I could love you.
I would climb through your window like I couldn’t get enough of you.
My brain won’t let me forget though darling.
So I’ll chug cough syrup till I’m drowning
And when the black starts circling in,
On my face, you’ll see me swim.
I’m to young to die.
I’m too man to cry.