We need to do this
To pull all of it together
Or else we are truly looking at a case of unmitigated disaster
At its very finest all over again
Pained beyond anything you or I may have ever imagined, ever seen before
Please, shut-close that door! The back-draft is something unmatched
Tragedy, one such word we can only ever dream of getting to use
Things. Just. That. Bad!
Mental anguish atop physical abuse
Every single morning, so soon as I see you, it reminds me all over again of a far greater time
But today, as it turns out, we lie inside of one another’s arms
Shuddering to a real point of no return… almost but not quite!?
Squirming uncontrollably
I’ve been up all night, as per, worrying about our beloved mother
The one who was always there, be it forever supportive or simply trying her damndest to tow the line
Sublime, one such word which seems to have left the pair of us a long time ago
I just don’t know anymore… What. Can. We. Do!?
She drinks… she thinks for no less than ten people at a time
Obese, inviting on in all of the wine
Rough surroundings
Never, ever managing to do any of this by half
Trust me, half would be terribly nice
I think we do indeed dream of a snippet, as little as a slice of our delightful mother, once adoring wife, all over again
So soon as schizophrenia swooped on down and hooked her by the rim of its unforgiving noose we just knew
That it may well have been all over
Christ, I’m barely sober myself!