crooked moonshine

less and less easy to be vulgar.
real men don't listen to
hamlet, paradoxes and
think they're true. believe me i'd
rather stare headlights in the eye
than end up bedside, night-light.
couldn't sleep last night,
i have a hunch it was you scratching
at your cage (my frontal lobe)

chapter one said, "show yourself"
and i tried but the pages turned up blank.
so no, i don't know where i'll be in
ten years but i bet a part of you will be
dead, because a part of me is dying, too.
i am filling up with corpses.
the epilogue will see them capture
my last breath.

elsinore is house to so many shut up humans.
i keep it in my hands and wring it
to make sure there's any water left.
i'm running out.
i'm drinking paradoxes and bad advice.