At My Best

i’m getting paranoid again,

I’m reconfiguring

slowly

these nights,

when I try to decompress

I get lonely

it’s not like you give a fuck if I’m ok

it’s not like you ever knew me anyway

and I don’t know why I even care

every time I see you sitting there

can’t seem to fucking think of any words

a head full of verbs

none of which appropriate

you only seem to see me when I’m at my worst

a low-grade parasite

bivalve of approbium

you never see me at my best

I’m always drunk, trying to impress

Apologise for the time we last met

playing catch-up in an infinite regress

I try to show you that I’m not what you think

knocking back my problems with another fucking drink

and every chance I ever fucking had of proving otherwise

I self-sabotage, I auto-demonize

it’s like a fairytale

sprinkle me with alcohol

I try to crush the paranoids with paracetamol

I live between the words

we dress up like we know them all

I am another demographic of the demerol

if I was you

and you were me

well, I wouldn’t blame you

for the things you fucking see

one, two, I’m not like you

three, four, and I need some more

five, six, analyse these tricks

seven, eight, never procreate

one, two, gonna push right through

three, four, on the cold, hard floor

five, six, with a tough remix

seven, eight, learn to hide your fucking hate