Holy whiskey remedy, will you save me from sobriety of light?
Carrion crawler trapped between my legs.
Half-way down to promised land, that fictious pit of puppy love.
True blue is a shade of black.
Knows she’s got nothing to do when these sorrows come.
won’t work the nightshift.
Loop a track, rewind it back, clock reset.
You timeless empties and liars.
There’s the filler and the killer camp. I’m a filler.
You give me an hour, I’ll turn it into thirty 60-seconds; you give me a minute, I’ll make it a sigh.
I’m pretty good, for my standards.
On a sterile day, I go lie in bed and wait for sleep, to wake into Monday or Sunday or Tuesday, and time will keep on moving, and I’ll keep on waiting for when it stops.
Shouldn’t, wouldn’t, did.
Dear sir, I’m excited to let you know that your unvoiced, implied offer is still valid under the following conditions:
- disown family at earliest convenience
- relocate to São Paolo, Brazil, as instructed
- maintain inexhaustible budget and desire
- declare to love loosely
- agree to lose love upon request
If either condition goes unmet, I will be forced to contact a different candidate.