Keep On Callin

 In mist of ill pills and ill wills. I reach for the suicidal thrills.
The next thing is a hex on sex, demise that rise
into the hard hitting self, toxic liquids on my bedroom shelves.
I have to move fast, press on the gas… Stress to
press the escape key on this PC, erasing click-click of these keys
that paint a depressive note. Void with no c-notes
to cash in the sin of man to fall far from his own end. I take a hit
and I know that paranoia follows. My night filled
with ghosts of my past that sip on liquor and smoke on chronic grass,
my thought fill with corrupt dimes with tight dresses.
They press their lips with my lips while nose filled with lines… Fine white lines.
I’m down with a frown but my enemies keep on callin…