Puking My Way Through Life

written: Tuesday, September 26, 2006

 

underneath the ill impared eyes of the weak,
sickness pulls me victim to a pain once forgotten,
these glossy eyes hold more hurt then one chooses to remember,
fetal position expresses the darkness of an unhealthy body,
and corrective lenses can no longer perfect genetic impurities,

gray skies infect the air with a scent of death,

flicking the bud of a cigarette into the pavement,

with little concern for the nestlings above,

the sickness inside seems as if a payment for my sins,

lighting strikes the soul of ignorance,

another night of sorrow and physical strain,

heaving my way to heaven with blood shot eyes,

Life turns quickly with a simple loss of days,

due to the infection of my selfishness

rethinking all i choose to push aside.