My Side
March 20, 2008 at 12:04 PST
Sleeping pills slipping silently in intimate ways,
you aim for eight hours but you fall to sleep for days,
down the hatch, grab the bottle, some poison drink to follow,
it brings you close to death and makes you feel so hollow.
Too many words to swallow and spin back to the source,
you want to be a poet but you can't complete the course,
Use the shit you write, and fight death until you die,
words linger in the air, and give a somber sigh.
If you get high, your there? get higher!
bring a spark up to my soul and watch it catch on fire,
lungs of desire, echo in a temple of the mind.
I'm searching for what life is, but nothings there to find,
brains drained, chased fame, and got shit,
Prepare for catastrophe, as the world takes a hit.
Up is down, and down is left and right,
the world may be broken, but still is worth a fight.
With lyrical verse like acid being spit into your eyes,
phrases seep into your soul and your brain slowly dies,
only to be resurrected by a scroll of opportunity,
the way I met myself, was trying talents that are new to me.
And soon you'll see, the effects of all my actions,
a zerg of words come over you like an enemy faction,
natural reaction, to the abuse I faced in life,
a humble homeless man, who doesn't own a knife.
Just stumble through the world searching for new dawn,
but the hardest part of life is just trying to hold on,
so gone, far beyond what exist.
A twisted existence, makes you mad and raise a fist.
Strike a match, light a bowl, jump a wall to get away,
playing hop-scotch with kids in the middle of the day,
don't stray, please stay, why don't you play awhile?
You're running outa breath like its running out of style,
panic attack hits, and your lying on the ground,
you passout of existence and your body's never found.
No one cared, no one cried, as you just lay there dying,
addiction caught you by the neck like a gazelle to a lion.
We are a... 
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