I long
By the end of my mistakes
I Lay Dying
In the midst of my own vomit
I request
Denied attention, repaid with contempt
I look
The return of all against me
As always I sold the wrong as right
And even in the usual cynicism of misleading
Guilt screams, struggles like a fish in the brush with death
Smothered by the air of life, screams for help
And like me, is totally discredited
Wrapped sins, waiting for the inevitable end
Beautiful weekend, but not for me
Still longing …


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