Shots At The Moon

He’s a boy with a

high tolerance for

chronic chemicals

lethal liquid explore.

No Sir do not fit

all things in a box

of bliss I need kiss

this hurt I fought.

Sober I can ask of

Jesus to feed us let

me Lord never to

let me never forget.

This little ink I’m

scribbling down so

costly watch I do

all my steps as I go.

Fog is a drug I hit

the burn of a gun.

I shot two shots at

the moon for fun.

Little boy me I sew

garments to cover it.

The soars and scars

I guess in a box fit.

I discern the nails I

drive deep an illusion

covers me I think I’ll

drink in seclusion.

I want it gone all it.

All my memory sir,

all my memories sir

they burn in a blur.

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