three days old

the poetry of this hangover

i don't want to think

not

too hard anyway

the scenery and fish

they're bad

take another breath

another look and swallow

holding the hand of hard times

and fallout

it could be worse.my star could fall

pacified by little things

tones of beige and green seem

to halt a scream in waiting

all red eyes

all heads thinking

no one says anything i can

hear down here on the floor

where i belong

too young to find the horses

too young fighting causes

i get overwhelmed

and i feel three days old

another day goes and fails

the people lose control just 'cause

things are going slow

your corduroy coat has left you

just when you're feeling the wind

and cold

then comes a rain of old thoughts

that always have to wreck my high

and bring me down

you and i are not the same

you like everything

arms wave in a spin

blown by

things i've hated

i've faded to the point

where i'm not all there

curled up on the floor

where i belong