I might be wrong
but i think not;

..just another day
standing aside..
in this victorian window
me and my pale hand's
iron grip
on a bottle of absinthe;
..watching the piss
of life missing me..

I look out
I see a grey wall
even the damn sky
is made of the stuff;
I look at you
another sheep I see
so fluffy
so speachless-
again grey;
I too say nothing

Inside our minds
we subtly blame the exhaustion
both physical and mental;
but it's always been crystal clear
that we had not won
the lottery

And I, myself,
my own personal schizophrenic
shrink, am choking with laughter
in my too comfortable armchair
madness in my eyes
clearly portrayed;
screaming at me:

"So, tell me, unique snowflake,
something profound I haven't heard
before!"

I can't share my own enthusiasm
not today;
So I swallow yet another
ego enlargement pill
drink some absinthe..

..and hope it will
kill only one of me..