I'm constantly partying with Ghosts,
My dead friends being the hosts.
We rave to House in my dreams,
Lots of sweets n unlimited means.
Cream cakes, booze n smack,
Pregabs, ice cream, an ickle of crack.
Chilling, watching comedy n chat,
Making designs for all r new tats.
We gouch out, giggle n laugh,
Telling old stories of R mad past.
But my lost friends are all in ma head,
I only get to party with the dead.
N at the end I tell em I'll phone.
Then I wake up n realise I'm all alone.
© 2025 - Robert Reid - All Rights Reserved
At least you have found a way to verbalise your feelings and pain, Rob xx
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