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But now that I’m scrubbingtoilets on my hands & knees,with four degrees,I realize that one escape routeleads to another

Phil Volatile

But now that I’m scrubbingtoilets on my hands & knees,with four degrees,I realize that one escape routeleads to another

Phil Volatile
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Failure is the new success.
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America—where we hate our fathers, love our mothers, andeveryone is hung up on tryingto be a man
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We had scar-tissueromance and ours wasa relationship of sayinggoodbye—every timewe fought, every timewe fucked, and every timewe called it quits, beforepicking up our knivesagain
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I pawned the remote to my misery,trading it in for liquor that was cheap;screwdrivers for my vitamin c,and a little bloodstream to my IV,helping to soothe my lunacy
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Now I’msober and Irealize, Ididn’t drink toescape the world,I drank to escapemyself
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I traded in myfreedom fora needy, whinyand defiantfour-year-old,a junky girlfriend,and a relationshipriddled withsomeone else’sproblemsNow, I stareout of openwindows likea wild mustangcraving openfieldsI clench mycrotch, wheremy ballsused to be,and I hum aloathsome tune,like an out-of-work castratowho’s realized his dreams of someday having his own familyare gone
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It’s sadthat burnt marshmallowsmake me think ofmethamphetamine,when theyshould bringback childhoodmemories ofs’mores
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Too many codeine pills,Too many nights of cold chillsToo many weak-handed dealsToo many lives, the addict steals
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