recurring.

listening to (sleep)
why must i be haunted?
having enough booze to dose away all of somalia's worry
time is always leaving to ease.
you know i went to church last week
because i was chased down by a pack of dogs.
what am i thinking?..

it's me i see, sitting in this stone chair whistling sabbath.
cigarette in one hand, your noise kept from my job on the other

i know this nightmare
because i saw your face.
not a whimper or smile,
not enough blood gushing or bile,
not even close..
just the familiar.
the everyday that a person won't write a movie about

what can you say
even with enough dreaming
that this could all be true, really happening.
always to want you in memory
having not to be, but only miscontrue what is truly mine,
in my mind. in my mind..

lets get fucked up on opiates

one

more

time

...