It's just a poem I wrote, stream of conscious. What do you think?
Stale Water
Thumbs blister from empty lighters,
i defy,
if i stop, i'll die,
my legs walk without me,
i am somewhere else,
i can feel my skin
jumping away,
skull struggling to keep my brain
inside,
it wants to bleed out,
and run from my thoughts,
dripping out of my cat ears
Halcyon lights behind
the driest of eyes
focusing on a blackness,
that cuts up the day,
i think i am operating,
i know i am dreaming,
of masturbation i can't perform,
and foods i can't digest,
the afterbirth of semen,
tastes distinctly of caffeine,
and dark glasses assasinate my waxy
personality,
they groom me for a silent head,
where i am my own willing prey,
drunk on stale water,
drowning,
in stale water,
wasteful with hours,
piss-soaked and beautiful,
let this be a lesson,
to vapid little shits,
wishing and wanking for the corpse
of ian fucking curtis,
is this what you wanted?
is this how it played out in your
featureless wet dream?
wait for the industrial enema,
wait for the crowning come-down,
you WILL be sick,
are you dressed for this?
Are those my eye-pits?
are these my hands?
laminated in sticky innards,
transforming me,
temporarily,
erasing me,
temporarily,
there are no innocent by-standers,
there are just the good-looking ones,
the principled ones,
and the miscarried ones,
We all have the right to drown,
in stale water
