unfolding happiness
i wake up in a room i barely remember.
i wake up on a couch with no name, no grudges, no history.
Good morning sunshine.
in the bathroom it all comes together,
i put my face on in the mirror.
clean myself real good, think about the life,
before,
all openings became almost closed.
i might not be that pretty thing.
find someone’s pack, take half.
light up, then i get back to my excuses.
it’s the shot of expresson in your coffee. it’s the nicotine.
it’s the game where it’s one week a year to feel complete.
it’s the backseat.
it’s March. it’s the park.
it’s driving all the way home just to be alone.
it’s getting colder. it’s getting older. it’s getting bolder.
it’s finishing on your face. it’s trying to be a better person.
it’s taking your shot. it’s losing the weight.
it’s hating yourself. it’s loving yourself even more.
it’s waiting for the clock to wind itself.
it’s missing. it’s winning. it’s all the same.
it’s trying to get clean. it’s being mean.
it’s luck.
i have got nothing to lose.
so yes, i am always down.
i am most likely not what you want,
but i am for certain what you can not have.
i am not close to anything good no more
and i am not so sorry.
all of the over or under dresses stars,
sharing sips and the tastiest spit.
chances are i know who you are.
the milky weight of unfolding happiness every once in a while.
global warming,
bring it on.
