Monday, 17 May 2010


Every day is just a bigger fucking struggle than before,
Every next day the promises just get more,
Today-I promise to myself:this is it,
Im flushing all my stash and not even taking a final hit?
Ok, maybe no flushing-that's a bit drastic,
Lets make this the last time we get spastic!
So what am I gonna do tomorrow morning when I wake?
Have a smoke up session-a bit of a bake!
Anything to kill this anxiety brewing within me,
Cause you must be an idiot not to see-
You are entering your week of hell
And experience says you are NOT gonna be well.
From aches to cramps,nausea,spasms and no fucking sleep,
Holy shit-how can this hole feel so deep?
Every day just gets worse than before,
How the fuck can this pain still get more?
How freaking long has this been-not even a hour?
It hasn't even started yet and already im lacking the power,
All this is in your mind-the most powerful tool-
And so brilliant it can make you the fool.
So when are you gonna have the power to quit?
Hold on there cowboy-just wait a little bit.
Maybe if I go on my knees and real hard I pray,
Ill wake up in the morning and all this shit has gone away...

Now you sit there thinking feeling insecure
The mocking court gesture (jester) claims there is no proven cure
Go back to your chamber, your eyes upon the wall
'Cos you got no one to listen, you got no one to call
And you think I'm curious

Drifting, drowning in a purple sea of doubt
You wanna hear she loves you,
but the words don't fit the mouth
You're a loser, a rebel, a cause without
But don't think me callous

Dancing Rosemary, disappearing sister Ruth
It's just your yellow appetite
that has you choking on the truth
You gave in, you gave out, outlived your dream of youth
And I can't get jealous

So go on, you'll continue with your nose so open wide
Knocking on that door that says Hurry come inside
But don't bother to buy insurance 'cos you've already died
And you can't be serious

I saw my reflection in my father's final tears
The wind was slowly melting, San Francisco disappears
Acid heads, unmade beds, and you Woodward world queers
I know you're lonely...

Thanks for your time
And you can thank me for mine
And after that's said
Forget it.

Jane S. Piddy-Rodriguez

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