Wednesday, October 09, 2013

Help! I need somebody's help.


I need somebody's help.



Why do they call this
a merry go round, when
I'm sick of the turning?
Get me the f... out'a
here!
Heaven knows I'm miserable
now, said love, said faith.
More is he the good,
that whistled to me,
and filled my mind
with fateful and sad symphony.
Colder than,
an Arctic winters purge,
is the reality I'm facing here.
Time lost on pity,
wasted on days of pain,
on stirrings from an
empty heart.