Work in Progress

Take a polaroid of these healthy veins
snap a shot of what used to be scars of pain
wrath to self dealt by dames
obsession and compulsion results insane
former glory and obsession of self
put the hopes and dreams back on that dusty shelf

supercalinarcissitic tendencies
all my friends are dead and im callous see
focus fogged and vagueness magnified
only answer to the question is it wasn't me who died
the conscience wasn't there the 1000 times lips lied
the grin and stare was bare when my momma cried
wheres the relief when guilt shows up
is it still in the spoon or at the bottom of the cup?

keep on reading as you think thats messed up
let this remind you thats only some of the stuff
while freedom is chattin incarceration is happenin
lockin up the mind of a rock star whose now a has been
never stepped foot on a single stage
never sold a single or had a label that paid
but a legend in the mind of self spelled fame
funding from the pocket of those viewed as lame

now its the last phone call from the phone you pay
maybe even the last time seen in the light of day
lookin over the shoulder for the next way out
every hand that helps receives an angry shout
self mapped roadblocks that lead to the end
even at that point the spoon was still the only friend
its not so bad to stop and think of you
it was convincing that our love was true
last question is does it all sink in
not a second as the spike breaks the surface of skin
fantasize if you must but its all about the trust
cause killin ourselves is what we've done since the dust

end