Poetry, One-Shots, and Song Lyrics

Rolling Down a Hill for Thirty-Six Hours

I'll break into pieces if I get defeated,

by whatever's taken a hold...

I'm thinking my fate has already been told,

I'm only a kid, I feel fifty years old,

I'm hoping and praying that what is forsaken

will kindly give way to some homeostasis,

I'm naked from neck up, and that is too much -

Hegel got faded, beat me to the punch

I'm lunch for all these demons, that's cliché,

but I gotta leave it, I -

I don't know what I'm saying, but I mean it.

I don't know what I'm saying, but I feel it.

The pieces of me that are broken

will come back together, but I need a moment,

I'm on the road. . .

.

Cold and uncontainable.

Fill up the margin, the page is full.

Filling my pockets and heading to Stull.

Telling myself that I'm out of control,

'cause I cannot help when the lead is dull.

.

and, I don't know where

Hell's embrace returned to me,

but on that road we wind and wind

the clocks to find the wasted time.