the bottle

your bottle, your buddy, your constant...

im so tired of coming second,

to the glass prison you've put us in

the abusive fishbowl you decide to drown in.

 

phone calls late onto the night,

forever droning on and on and on

waking up in cold sweats to dreams not worth remembering,

realizing hopes not strong enough to lean on

 

when, tell me when

is this hell gonna end?

whens enough gonna finally be enough

when i say so?

I think not

Ive said no

your fist is too tough

the slap of your hand, rough.

 

im tired,

its late...

your buddy wont keep you awake

sweet dreams.

goodnight.