Last night I smoked too much
Stumbled into bed, drunk
Throwing myself off rooftops and flying through skies
I can still taste the salt on my lips
Ensnared in the cycle of bittersweet memories
Flickering like iridescent light beams
Palm leaves in apple-scented orchards
A blur in a promise land of refined sugars
Hollow fruit I picked from notorious back streets
Two magpies balancing in the trees
When red and yellow and brown autumn colours come in
Running taps, nosebleeds and chest pains
In that astral projection of starry-eyed dreams
I am haunted by how reality can be possible
I\'ve touched clouds and seen moons floating over hills
The dance of sacred frills, love and despair lingering
With every quiet night of reflection
I rise from the embers and still I am the same
Holding my own in this disintegration of loops
This unopened box of yellow bones and smoke-tainted grief
I\'d rather stay inside than wallow for a century
Crawling deeper into glowing misery
It\'s 7 a.m. and I\'m in bed on this cold October morning
Rain\'s running down my window like stupid little children
I look around me, trying to find a meaning
In this perpetual emptiness
Just a signature on an envelope of prayers
The walls of the dead house I buried my ghosts
A shower of new muscle, new blood, bacteria
Stretching into woods, inviting paths
I am a slug in this mundane life, twisting grey
Metallic wet streets, under the morning\'s white sky
I see a cog in the rusty machine like mucous
Glittering fizz in puddles with the roar of the cloudburst
I drink them like moons and clouds and songs
I wash them inside and out like stones and I love them
Like old socks, trousers crumpled up on the floor
Empty bottles scattered around from the night before
I pity them like regret, cracked knuckles cutting teeth
My bed becomes a friend, the same old walk
The same old road
A mind opened up, a world opened up
Embracing limbs like those inviting paths
Guiding me towards the eternal smile of death
The cauldron boiling over into a deformed pumpkin
A mountain of depression, never-ending torture
In this empty park my thoughts are expansive
Expanding like the blue horizon
I wake up to the clang and jitter of yesterday\'s dishes
Dyslexia in the sink festering beansprouts and foam in the mind
I peel an orange and stare at the waxy pith of changing clocks
A supercharged river of emotions soaring
Through me like the synthetic breath of an atom
Lilted in choppy waves
Puppet from the strings of shoegaze
The anxious fear in the voice dropping a beloved vase
The mail is delivered and I go back to sleep
In and out of dreams, I think of those neglected dishes
I consume it, hypnosis
The terrifying moment you\'re devoured
Submit to your desires and feel the pleasure flow
Admit it, you\'re melodramatic and sentimental
Always thirsting for flesh, that giant hunger in your stomach
You can never reach it, you always dream of it
Those thoughts that make me squirm, the blood of a lamb
Dancing like complicated thunder
I put a band-aid on the broken branches of this loneliness
Slumbering in a reverie as soft as a beach
A voodoo doll that can\'t speak
Drifting like echoes through new seasons
Drifting with every new thought
Broken angel wings like a shiny blood clot
I\'m tired of this small town of hurting
Lowbrow and wayward, every minute is a dying breath
Another day of hating myself passes and the sun is no brighter
All the colours have been washed out of life
And this waterfall of pain within is a monster I can\'t hide
Just another thing to worry about
The changing winds of a soul with glue in my mouth
The sun doesn\'t mean the night is over
When you have lost everything and have nothing
Your house becomes a fading ghost
Everything becomes a metaphor, invisible in the light of a larger game
Smiling at strangers to conceal the pain
A vacant shadow is shouting the thimble is broken
Your eyes are insane and you never listen
Staring at the blank television screen, I was a week sober
But still, but still, I\'m not in love
The highs don\'t feel like they used to do
How is life working out for you when money runs dry like an oasis?
Hot steam from cylinders, so insatiable, so uninspired
Throw me in the ocean and pretend I don\'t exist.