Just don’t give it to me

(July 28, 2006)

Just give me a minute and I'll be all right. Just give me a hit, or a sip, or whatever the fuck it is you have. Give me your disease, or your infection. All I need is time, or is that not enough.. Maybe what I need is a new kind of love. I've never needed to be paid to swallow, but the first time I did I threw up. That was the rum. I'm not a slut but I'm just as good. (They say.) I can't decide if I should feel pride or shame. I crack under pressure, so give me one of those legal pills that keeps you awake for two extra hours with dry eyes and broken vessels. Or you could give me that cute boy I've always wanted. Just a suggestion. Just give me a page or so to clear my mind. Give me your addiction. Teach me a dialect. Or you could shove it down my throat. It's one of those days, but then again, when isn't it. Here's my peace of mind. Encased in glass. Call me showy. Call me anything you want. Surprisingly, stikcs and stones don't break my bones, not that I'd test the theory. Thanks for not missing me. I appreciate the truth. Thanks for the memories. Sorry about the broken heart. Just give me your remorse; I'll eat it up.