Monday, April 4, 2011

The girl with the gift of death.

A self prescribing pharmacist
A self loathing narcissist
Self esteem in a capsule
False security blanket
Doling out medication
Cheating her way to meditation
Next level thinking
Drowned by too much drinking
On her way to Club 27
Swallowing and sniffing her way to heaven
She ain't no rockstar
She just serves them in bars
With a saccharine smile
And sheep in whore's clothing style.
Pupils like pinholes, glassy and green
With a heart full of hate and a fist full of pills
White, yellow or pink?
Choose your thrill
Fuck it take them all
Dry swallow to kill 
1 for the toothache
2 for the heartbreak 
3 for the back pain
4 for the tear stains
5 for all the tough love
6 cuz love ain't enough
Lucky lucky lucky 7 
She'll drag her body through hell
For a taste of heaven
8 and 9 aren't worth a cent
Because number 10 is the biggest regret.

I stopped self medicating but stumbled upon an old unpublished post that I felt was encapsulating the current mindframe.
The truth is a hard pill to swallow but I'd rather choke down reality than seek salvation in a false pharmaceutical god that doesn't exist.

No comments:

Post a Comment