how many suicides can i live? those wretched birds happy and in love, me, waddling like a duck out 'a luck. Trip over broken glass from last night: the point i was trying to make from sundown to midnight ... laying there shattered like my heart. it was only a bottle, i remind myself, it was only a bottle I had hoped would cure me. nothing cures the cursed, for that, you need a god. Ain't no gods here, my brother, my sisters ... and No fucking God-Damned gods here. no, no - i'm not angry about it, just disappointed, that's all. it's never clean - life. dirty underwear, sweaty ass, something always falls out of my mouth onto my white button up shirt just before I walk into the interview. We'll pay the rent, sure, even if it costs us a lifetime. so many memories in those houses, in those tiny apartments, rooms - screaming at the top of my lungs, shaking the windows; an earthquake, as long as the rent gets paid.
screaming at low volumes
