I have to drink, or else the urge to call someone will be just unbearable and kind of like the rhyme here but if I think about that rhyme, or even the time or anything else outside of my own sweat-scented madness then it all will go away I'll be betrayed by that ugly lie that I belong to everyone and there's nothing private here that's not for public consumption anymore, god how I hate it, could anything be more miserable, more unfair, no wonder the ones like me still show everyone how far you can kill yourself without actually dying.
Ruth Powers-7-31-11
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