I cling onto different bottles
Thinkin’ they’ll make things easier
I cling to my bottle like when I was a baby
But now it’s full of poison
Full of somethin’ that instead of
Makin’ me feel realer
Makes me fell less real
And that’s exactly what I look for
Only to want to discard that same feelin’ the next day
And the next day is simply purgatory
When the liquid ends
I look for smoke
Aren’t they the eternal rejuvenators?
Creators of new life?
Is that why I hide in a bath of liquid and a cloud of smoke?
First published on Misfits’ Miscellany: