This is a poem I wrote a long, long time ago …
There is no hole that you fall into
there is no deep water that you swam
there is no one you can talk to
what the hell do you think I am
I’m not as twisted as you think
it’s not you talking it’s my drink
don’t keep punching squirming calling
when everything you want is falling
you know your number’s not coming in
get off wip the blood off your chin
the yearbook thing you Romeo you
Carson brooks may be porter bryant
turn over smell your knee
just fucking get away from ME!
-David Gagne
