Leave Me Be (Not Me)

Daylight shines too bright
when you're slugging through
the same old story.
I hope this bender spells the end.
A moment of cracked clarity,
bells sound out in epiphany:
you hate all of your friends.
Foreign body sensation,
stress echo.
Get wasted to annihilate your superego.
Drunk and stupid.
Talking too loud.
Go ahead, smoke another cigarette.
Resign yourself to your early death.
You want someone to hold your head,
you want someone to take you to your bed.
You want someone to watch you sleep.
You would like a tireless ear,
a human chamber pot to catch all your tears.
You want someone to watch you bleed.
Not me.
Nightmares, dreaming.
Woke up screaming.
Happens often... often lately.
Now I'm drunk and lonely at a party.
Pointless, really.
There's nothing here worth seeing.
You need a more permissive mother in your heart,
or at least a plastic icon who will bend you over
like you've always wanted.
You want someone to control you.
Somebody to console you.
Someone to forgive your little lies.
Someone kind.
Not me.
I've been waiting for a new life
to come crashing into mine
to make me feel whole.
Make me feel fine.
Lift my tired eyes to the infinite sky.
Sleep in old woods under wet trees.
This dirt someday will hold our bodies.