They’re talkin about you boy, but you’re still the same. There’s something inside you, it’s hard to explain.
Can’t sleep
I can’t sleep.
The feelings and thoughts I have are not complete.
Wet, cold hair pressed against my head.
One thing of many keeping me from bed.
The vivid fluid feelings that once ran free.
Have cleared now so that I can see.
Although I see I still don’t know.
If what I’m thinking is the proper road.
But I have faith, and I have love.
Both here on earth, and up above.
I must press on.
I must move forward.
To give in now would just be horrid.
I won’t give up, I’m always true.
Just wait and see what I can do for you.
I hope we grow, I hope we build.
But I guess right now I have time to kill.
I wrote this poem, or maybe song.
And at this point it’s dragging on.
I’m bored as shit, nothing to do.
But stare at homeless people.
Who smell like poo.
From my dorm, on commons side.
At Suffolk where I now reside.
Looking from my window.
In the sky.
Just wishing I was really, really high.
#drunkpoetrybitches
