| nice In this 22 degree madness I�ve found myself a daydream To fondle in the soft hair of winter It would taste so pleasant Beneath the weight of my body That I found myself wrapping It around the base of my knuckles Smiling at the red lines left in haste Torment comes only to the patient Buried underneath the muscle Of a raining catastrophe Little short of a perfect ten The vodka smells like vomit in the Afternoon sun spoiled so nice a delicacy No reason to waste away any longer My legs ache with the need to decipher A better spoiling of myself |