Passing moment

Its not what you read
But perceive
between the lines
Of what my words mean
How they’re hostel
And jostle me to the point
I cant trust my poetry

My dreams control me
Like a puppet
Printed words of serenity
I'm tired of being lost
And my past is the culprit

My poetry isn’t enough
Anymore for this prison;
I'm sick of each sentence
Wasting every passing minute

Someone go get me liquor
And my gun;
Ill down it till its all gone;
Then I'm done

Or maybe I should just run away;
Quit my job, pack my shit
And just leave
On the same day;

I'm so sick of this fucking place;
Love doesn’t live here anymore...
What a fucking waste;

I've been miserable for years now,
I don’t know how ive managed
To coast by and
not pull my hair out;

Done