the tourist
Blue Crack Addict
- Joined
- Dec 25, 2003
- Messages
- 27,919
trim down
push farther, harder, up the slope of rainy sidewalk
until the smile on your face grows fatter
as your arms stretch and twist, growing thinner
skipping dinner (be a
winner) shaking on your bed at night, colder than the math equations furiously dividing themselves inside your mind.
blind with ambition, situational, given a moment's thought
you've fought so hard to get to this point
you never want to return to
where the burn of the strain in the rain and the sweat running down your chin collide with midsummer twilight, in scorn
and in cyanide kiss off,
pissed off and alone.
becoming a better human being, a leaner piece of meat.
walking turning into runner, breakfast turned into lunch, turned into dinner,
turned into sleep
and the coldness which comes from a lack of production.
the energy you once had has faded from view, your old self your new,
growing weaker by the day
as the flashing red and blue of aid car rushes you past the blur of sycamore and crumbling drug store,
more of the same, everyone to blame.
except yourself
because you could never bring yourself to the mud which you belong to,
the life you wake up to each morning in the sun, underfed
on an iv
in a hospital bed.
push farther, harder, up the slope of rainy sidewalk
until the smile on your face grows fatter
as your arms stretch and twist, growing thinner
skipping dinner (be a
winner) shaking on your bed at night, colder than the math equations furiously dividing themselves inside your mind.
blind with ambition, situational, given a moment's thought
you've fought so hard to get to this point
you never want to return to
where the burn of the strain in the rain and the sweat running down your chin collide with midsummer twilight, in scorn
and in cyanide kiss off,
pissed off and alone.
becoming a better human being, a leaner piece of meat.
walking turning into runner, breakfast turned into lunch, turned into dinner,
turned into sleep
and the coldness which comes from a lack of production.
the energy you once had has faded from view, your old self your new,
growing weaker by the day
as the flashing red and blue of aid car rushes you past the blur of sycamore and crumbling drug store,
more of the same, everyone to blame.
except yourself
because you could never bring yourself to the mud which you belong to,
the life you wake up to each morning in the sun, underfed
on an iv
in a hospital bed.
