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Athletics
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Where to Hide
I've got holes in both my feet
And empty shotgun shells beneath
I've been shooting up a storm
Intentionally trying to eliminate
What stands beneath me standing and the floor
This bed on two by fours
Where I hide my defeated side
Just held together barely getting by
Beneath my weight
Decisions that I've made
I habitually cycle through
And loop them on repeat
In the worst way
In my worst way
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Been digging graves with my bare hands
So inefficiently
And the right ways I'll just never understand
Lock me indoors, swallow my key
Let's see if I can claw my way through walls
Or get some fucking sleep
And dream of missing out
The chance to shoot myself right in the foot again
Within the first few hours
Of quiet and peace, two things I'm told that I should need
But my requirements for those two polar opposites
Are two hungry mouths to feed
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