Driveling

One day I started writing,
I was bored and looking for a solution.
So I started the tedius process,
Of killing my paper with my inky pollution.

I wrote and I dribbled,
I scibbled and drew,
And eventually something beautiful came about,
Like a phoenix emerging from sulfur.

So here I sit even today,
A rambling, driveling young fool,
So convinced I control the world,
That all I have left to do is doodle.

Whilst I snivel, drivel, canieve and plan,
I proceed with my life as if it's a scam.

It makes me quick, makes me nimble,
Make all of life's consiracies solve themselves so simply.

Without paper I write on my arm,
Outside in the rain the ink runs,
So I dry my flesh with a clean cigarette,
And keep writing through the burns.

So laugh all you want, I'm unstoppable, you'll see,
Sooner or later you'll be on the ground looking up at me.

You'll cry and you'll plead, I'll make you burn, make you bleed.

When that final gasp of breath escapes your lungs,
I'll draw you back to life with a kiss,
Stick through my arrogance, and at the bottom...
...You'll find our bliss.

/ Lucia /