I got cold sweats, in full sets, but feel too hot to feel wet,
These duff pegs, are half dead, but they still keep me rolling around in bed.
My pain is immense, but every doctor’s 2 cents, seems too dense,
So I’ve got to decide, no offence, which way to fall off, this spiked fence.
I have dead teary eyes, coz I know there’ll be no happy goodbyes,
That dark fear I feel inside, was only meant for the wise.
Coz my bodies a true mess, n I've got a head bulging full of stress,
As an old teacher, once said in jest, I can only attempt, to do my worst best.
Coz I’m really at rock bottom, and every future’s been truly forgotten,
To be an EastEnders' Nick Cotton, my brains had to get half rotten.
It’s a death spiral snake’s hiss, n a chicken bone cracked wish,
A hopeful one-way ticket 2 everlasting bliss, I'll def not risk a goodbye kiss.
So many pills are taken full hand, so I wobble n slobber, here as I stand,
I definitely don’t feel like a man, coz death rattles always harder than planned.
Whisky washed back, full gack n I got more scalpels, full pack,
I plunge demon juice into my thigh's crack, n within a minute my head lies flat back.
So I slit my wrist’s cord, with a scalpel like a sword, n say a prayer 2 any listening Lord,
For all I have aboard, by law, is a single coin on my tongue to pass Styx's river, by Greek accord.
Coz this bed is my sled, and deaths rider Charon is led, pls driver take me down, full brown bread,
My eyes swirl in my head, rolling n red, n I look forward to the afterlife, pray kind dead.
But like every time, the coin’s not payment enuff, n the riverman pulls up my body, full bluff,
I’m yanked up to my bed, from Styx’s rivers guff, n wake up panting, feeling real head ruff.
For is this my life’s long fate, to never get past, or pay the toll, to enter the underworld’s last gate,
I’m full 365, dulling my soul’s ache, I cry n quake, as sit here now, smoking "bake n shake".
For if I cannot end my time, on life's painful line, I must punish u all, with tales of my life’s crime,
So let hell’s bells, chingy, chime chime, as I once again, deliver this forlorn rhyme.
And I just hope, proper no joke, that one day, I’ll finally choke n fully croak,
I hope 2 B found lying on my bed, blood soaked but with not a riverman's coin, stuck in my throat.
© 2022 All Rights Reserved Robert Reid
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