NaPoWriMo: Drunk. Pulp. Piss

Tv screens and radio
magazines and stereos
all these thoughts
pulverised in our minds
whole little worlds
behind our eyes
some of us becoming pulp
dazed and confused
I can’t organise all this shit in my brain
how on earth do we get off of this fucking train?
I need a warehouse
to store all these fucked up thoughts and feelings
Cuz I’m apt to start screaming
don’t hold us close
when we’re all going away anyway
I can’t take another goodbye
so don’t say
don’t stay
All these lights lock my brain
always wired
the humming in my brain
the smell of piss on the streets
cuz everyone forgets their heads
drunk to forget

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