The "*** IT" Reflex

the 'FUCK IT' reflex
twitches inside of me
and when it's hungry for the flesh
it has my conscience to eat
don't know what comes next
trembling at what it could be
the nighttime suggests
only vague possibilities.

it might be the future
in minutes or even years
what is the point in wondering
and what the fuck am I doing here?

BUT IT HURT MORE WITH THEM
MY SECRETS SCREAMING
BEHIND THE TORN UP HEM
STILL YOU POCKETED MY THONG
LIKE A WAR LADEN GEM

LIPS LIKE LOADED GUNS
BUT IT DOESN'T FEEL WRONG
YOU'LL THINK WE'RE HAVING FUN
UNTIL THE END OF THIS SONG

and I can hear it sometimes
hummed and hushed away
between bedrooms
and methadone lines

it shadows my every decision
like an elegy to my innocence:
or at the very least
a warning sign

so my youth spoke the truth
last saturday night
had a hangover for years
they say gets better with time
you may have found absolution
but I found out mine
it's all just dirty fingernails
and pairs of bloodshot eyes
♤
◇
♧
BUT I'M STILL HERE WITH THEM
MY SECRETS SCREAMING
BEHIND THE TORN UP HEM
YET YOU POCKETED MY THONG
LIKE A WAR LADEN GEM

LIPS LIKE LOADED GUNS
BUT IT DOESN'T FEEL WRONG
DO YOU STILL THINK I'M HAVING FUN
HERE AT THE END OF MY SONG