D.I.Y. Tranquilizers

Miasma will befriend like a well oiled palm. The grass
Is so green. The grass is so clean. Besides the oaks I
Blink beneath one tree to flow. Amongst the stones I
Quake within it’s grave to spin. I’ll spin
I can’t make any sense anymore. My verse falls empty
Words now enemies. I’m going home
There’s one chance to be lost. There’s one day I won’t
Be drunk. Goddamned, I’m bleeding all
To see no one. Must be my tranquilizers. Enlisting my
Scorched Earth and barbed wire. I don’t feel tranquil
I feel confused. I am confused
«I'm sick to death of the shit of hicks in turtlenecks.»
— Old Man Lowry