Deep in the endless bottom is where I see the truth. The end of the bottle tells no lies. It is blurred sanity. True lies. The creator fills the abyss. He believes I must remain perfectly sane. Perfectly drunk. He wants restitution for his service. There is no need for all that. I surrender willingly. I have a thing for these things. A love affair. I place my hands behind my back willingly. Fill me.
I have these Demons.
I fight a father I have never met. My mother and I still wonder about him. I carry both burdens. So I’m allowed this next drink. Who is he with. Is he dead. I think, who he fucks instead of my mother, now. Do I have brothers or sisters. My mother is attractive. Come back. Fuck her.
I fight the idea that I am promiscuous. But I am a man so it’s okay. I fight these truths. I fight these lies. Feed me. Feed me. Sometimes these thoughts, they think they are me. They think I have a problem. Feed me. Get rid of them.
I am sinking. I can almost feel the bottom
the people with no teeth and red cheeks say I will be reborn at the bottom
feed me bat-t, feed greedy me.
I come to these places becuase my mom said he love the bars. They met here. It wasn’t like this then but maybe he will come back one day.
Is that him.
I will offer him the end of the bottom too