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Nothing Left
The rhythm of my heart has torn muscles tonight.
Too much coke for the soul,
Too little dope to activate the rewind button.
Wvery thing to fast for light.
Hands too shaky for midnight words.
Its had been like this
For a few weeks now.
No rest for the weak and feable.
They're my only friends
So don't make jokes
Behind their crippled backs.
As usual I always forget
About the things I forgot
And every night I run a marathon and become a junky martyr.
And now I'm in the best shape I've ever been.
I can always say I was better at life a month or so ago
But the needles were new
And I couldn't resist.
Now the tools of a cocaine carpenter
Are rusty and deseased;
Carriers of contagions
And fragmented dreams.
Dammit, shit, fuck;
My treasured cigarettes are below empty.
Only one left, what a tragedy.
Now I'm depressed
But at least I now have a goal now.
One I might actually be able to acheive
And that's a good thing,
I guess?
