Tuesday, July 3, 2007


It’s late, it’s one, and I’m wasted and done,
Really feeling sleepy, and a bit weepy,
My bottle is over; I could be in Dover,
Do I care, don’t know, this isn’t fair.

Darn these feelings, shit is that the ceiling?
Whoa got to get this done, thought writing a poem would be fun,
I guess the world is asleep; I’m starting to feel like a creep,
These nights do get crazy, why oh why, don’t I feel lazy?

Feeling hungry, got to eat; hope there is some meat,
Ok dinner wasn’t that cool, where is my red bull,
Let’s light up, damn is that booze in my tea cup?
No cigarettes at home, searched with a fine tooth comb.

Ok I don’t think this is right, but I just had a fight,
Stepped out for a pack, the damn vendor just did not have the tact,
Guess he was sleepy too, well you know what, boo hoo,
Ok now that I have my smoke, I’ll let that slide as a bad joke.

Let's call it day, is there no better way?
Because as long as I’m awake, thinking of you gives me a damn headache,
It’s just that it’s hard to take a nap; with all of this crap,
Miss you lots.

I did sleep like a baby that night :)

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