so i drink the last bottle of vodkaand smoke that pack of cigarettes.i like the burnthe burn of strong alcohol going down my throatand the burn of grey cigarette smoke that's slowly turning my lungs black.i have them in hopes of feeling something.something instead of nothing
The warm sun is failing, the bleak wind is wailing,The bare boughs are sighing, the pale flowers are dying,And the YearOn the earth her death-bed, in a shroud of leaves dead,Is lying.Come, Months, come away,From November to May,In your saddest array;Follow the bierOf the dead cold Year,And like dim shadows watch by her sepulchre.The chill rain is falling, the nipped worm is crawling,The rivers are swelling, the thunder is knellingFor the Year;The blithe swallows are flown, and the lizards each gone
I never lost as much but twice,And that was in the sod.Twice have I stood a beggarBefore the door of God!Angels -- twice descendingReimbursed my store --Burglar! Banker -- Father!I am poor once more!
The weight of misfortune has stooped my shouldersBut I don’t intend to stop for a good while yet;I afflict my own destinyAnd don’t want anyone to mourn for my fate.I’ve made peace with God on my lossesAnd agreed with him on the epitaphsThat should be written about my senseless wars.