Tired taxis shoot down the constantly sleepy city streets,
They take my fading carcass home as it bends in defeat.
The passersby stare, but no one helps me out with the keys.
I wish somebody noticed that these days I barely breathe.
My life of pleasure bleeds through my fluttering eyelids,
And I know that good people must suffer in glossy silence.
But would it be so wrong to drown all of the autopilots?
These joyless smiles pass by my eyes like floating islands.
I just want a little taste of what the other side holds.
It must feel more than delightful to always fit the mold.
My eccentric existence is rosy, but it is covered in mold,
And my mind is a sour substance, red and uncontrolled.
-Jackie
The Daily Writing of Jackie Wright 