Then What

Then What

Then what baby?

It’s nearly five, i cant sleep, cant weep

The curtains creep

It’s nearly five, am i alive yet ?

The whisky burns, burns like catholic candles

Held in the hand for God, or his Son, I confuse

I abuse this existence, don’t understand the ticking

Clock, the blood soaked sock

The missing nail, the unveiled veil

The crap i write, the wrong the right

Good night, harry