it's just a matter of time

it's just a matter of time

it's just a matter of time
until
i run out of excuses
when all my moments
become acts of indulgence
where i sit
behind this pen
masturbating my mind
until it comes up
with something
anything
just so i can remember
what it is like to be alive

just a whore for sentiment
cheap, unwashed
raw around the edges
chasing angels and misery
in the bottom of a bottle
that stopped being a comfort
long before
i was stoned enough
to look at myself
in the mirror

there are times
when i could swear
i feel myself choking
tongue swollen
stuck to the roof
of my mouth
by a concept
that i shouldn't give voice to
while i rationalize
what is left of the principles
i abandoned
so long ago
that even i forget
why the hell they mattered
in the first place

these days
clarity is seldom
if ever
and i no longer wear cynicism fashionably
because somewhere along the way
the angels on my shoulder
started turning ugly
leering at me
with faces
twisted into something less than godly
now the thrills
are just cheap soiled minutes
lost in the confusion
of a man on his last leg
buying peace a minute at a time
while watching the clock
and knowing
that my time
is almost up....