Drunk

Drunk

Your feelings and emotions don’t exist

while you’ve been hit by many a fist

your eyes refuse to bruise

Drunk

Your stomach churning constantly

you can feel the anger nonexistantly

but you won’t slow yourself down

Drunk

Rolling in the grass

your gut ripping open

but no feeling tells you why

Drunk

Wandering the streets

no place to retreat to

while your eyes melt in the heat

Published
Categorized as poetic

By QuietFairWarning

Russian Roulet- My favourite game. Death- my favourite state of being. Suicide- yeah, within 24 hours of writing this probably.