verbaldiarre

It's late afternoon, as you walk through the rooms
of a house that is quiet
except for unanswered telephones.
You stand near the sink,
you mix up a drink.
You think you don't want to pass out
where your roommates could find you again.
Stumble 'round the neighboorhod, nothing to do.
You're always looking for something
to sniff smoke or swallow.
Calling over next door, see what they've got.
But you would settle for anything
that would make your brain slow down or
stop this circle of thoughts you chase
before they catch back up with you.
And your parents notice your thinning face,
All the weight you've lost,
All the weight youre losing.
You said "I'm done feeling like a skeleton,
no more sleep walking dead."
You're going to wake from this coma.
You're going to crawl from this bed you've made.
Stop counting on the camera
that hangs around your neck,
cause it will never remember what you choose to forget.