I can barely understand
My own handwriting
Let alone my fucked up mind
Like I'm rolling around
On the very same bedsheets
That make my scalp itch
In a cloud of cigarette smoke
I can hear morning birds chirp
I can see the sun rise
Without a wink of sleep
I wonder why they say
Sleep is the cousin of death
When not getting any will
Kill you quicker
As I dread the coming day
In rush of a returning night
To drink away
Stayin' awake is
The real motherfucker
Bathed in a great deal of denial
This tub is my home
With every ounce of
Whiskey tainted water
That splashes from my dropping
A bottle only makes this moment
That much sweeter
©2012 Anthony Desmond Scott. All Rights Reserved.
