Under his fingertips I built a pedestal only to watch it collapse; he held my hand and took us outside to run as fast as we could to collect our cancer dues. And on my loneliest night I remembered the bleak moments when I most welcomed his dimming divide.
If I was a few numbers under maybe I would suffer less guilt.
I find myself tied between my dream of choking on panadol, and being shot down by Jesus in a suit.
I would like to have the right to wake up on a different side of life, to walk into a person's head and move things around.
Pick up the pieces of a troubled mind and put them in my own order.
And yet another day will go by with only a fragment of meaning to it.
If I was a few numbers under maybe I would suffer less guilt.
I find myself tied between my dream of choking on panadol, and being shot down by Jesus in a suit.
I would like to have the right to wake up on a different side of life, to walk into a person's head and move things around.
Pick up the pieces of a troubled mind and put them in my own order.
And yet another day will go by with only a fragment of meaning to it.
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