Fucking Bored.

I’ve been a mole
Digging for serenity
But as it turns out
That doesn’t turn me
On, and on and on
Like a scratched record song
This longing for substance
Be it tangible or metaphorical
Without being too allegorical
Let me describe
What it’s like to imbibe
An entire person, eat them whole
Gobble up their pretty soul
And let them feast on you as well
It’s all a cake walk, going swell
Until it sours into hell
What to do about a thing like that?
Life’s purpose, love, and all that jazz
Trading places, mouse and cat
Waking, chasing, can’t hit snooze
Can’t hit the mark, can’t hit the booze
I’ll say it frankly, unabashed
I’m all run out of hope I’d stashed
The walking dead, a skipping song
You were my beat, but now you’re gone.

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