I.

My new girl likes Phish, we be blasting ‘96

But ‘97, swear it's heaven

Haven't even gotten better

II.

But I swear I'm getting it wetter

As I type the final letter

Living dead or still in debt

Collecting memories. Forget

III.

Correcting chemical imbalances, they're all that I have left

I don't fall out often, I'm lost sauce and I am wet

With winterized hash oil on the slapdash coils

Smack back to reality, life is a fallacy

IV.

Dark room, “I cant”’s

DAP to make the cans dance

Empty plans to make my hands rest

I'm out here on my own

V.

And apathy is all I've known

And as a person I've not grown

More calloused over, California sober

Lost inside my lows. Were

VI.

We to fall apart completely and let maggots come and eat me

Beat me to the punch and meet me

In the pool of my misgivings

Druthers had and rhymezone written, pumping sad into soft tissue

When I'm gone I'm sure I'll miss you

But for now it's just-