Tusks Of Tomorrow

Gored by the long tusks of tomorrow 

Lying hungover...

Head throbbing

Dehydrated and exhumed

 

Painful memories of the night before 

Protrude through thoughts 

Like a starving artists ribcage

 

I am dead inside...

Like a privet hedge

A green shell

With a barren rotten core

 

Moments of clarity

Dance like carrots on strings

Terminal lucidity and the occasional epiphany

The definition of insanity

 

The black hole of addiction 

Swallos hope 

Only with the right kind of eyes

Can light be seen 

On the event horizon