GinasCaravan
A sailor and a gypsy walk in to a bar…
63 Pill Bottles
The pain in my chest
constantly
Paranoia arrests my rational thinking
viciously
I see their lights out of the corners of my eyes
Black shadows moving across the floor
I can’t help but check the locks on the doors and make sure the shades are closed
Helicopters incessantly fly overhead
They rattle my nerves just a little bit more everytime
63 pill bottles line the pantry shelves
What can I find to calm me down
Sleep is farcical
And death is no recourse
GinasCaravan 