Submissions by DrGonzo

Maybe we catch the fire only to realize it was barely a spark to begin with.
It's always the doubts that screw us over the most .
Fighting the battles eternal that show a head up the ass logic
and a simple dumb fuck reward .

Fuck how I hate those moments when the nothing is happening and the worlds still all to much alive.
The clock read ten o clock at night and the scene was more a ghost town meets a asshole convention.

The room was a ego all to it's self with many judges yet none are any worse than yourself
Tonight was a scratch .

least the...

Its more than a feeling when its come down to the finish and even a worse one when you realize its time to start yet again.
Like some sick version of twisted game show your always in reach and anytime your desperate the scum
will gather to praise your failure.
The bottle filled glory days a dinosaur who's back id long fell of of trying to stay in the groove simply has left me with more scratches than  I care to speak of so fuck the logic in this I preffer a good bullshit covred lie instead.

Hell wasnt a fire laced horror theme it was a emptyness beyond anything a normal...

We call it lust in a awkward place.
Empty vessels of a darkend space.
We shared the bottle and made out in the hallway instead.
Cheap are my moments empty are my thoughts as my bed.

What has it came to?
Why do we ask only to close are hearts in the end.
Empty are my days so why do I continue to pretend?.

The party long since dead only the leftover havoc haunted the scene .

I sat as always still on the verge of greatness slash insanity really whats the diffrence?

Bottel of good kentucky bourban at the desk the keys to the highway at hand.



My only company my trusted amigo and fellow madman boozer loyal dog and trusted spiritual guru.

The block was apon me the bottle almost gone dear lord man I was slipping these days.

You know Gonz you really need to lay off the shit man!

A voice spoke to me once was strangne usally they werent up...

Tears and raindrops hit the ground in some sort
of strange perversion i no longer wanna recall.
As time makes you question trusted choices like a madman
who answers the darkness on a cold winters night.

Was it a simple fuck or a old mans soul bleeding into
a young mans thought.
the storm swirls outside a window's view to a outside fury.

No longer innocent enough to belive yet
your always bitter enough to judge.
hours swallow years like a junkeis thirst for self destruction
it looms like a cemetary unseen by thoose who would
much rather...