When its cold I’d like to die

That being said, I feel at my worst in dreams

Harrowed into shreds, torn like a motherfucker

And wakefulness doesn’t come

Fuck fuck fuck fuckity fuck

Yeah, that’s the bipolarity of it

Can’t remain too happy for too long

A poet’s feelings pour in a baseless vial

and yet still they manage to overflow

circumregulating the rest at the same time

fuck the feeling of sadness, utter moroseness and madness

fuck all that’s wrong with the world, but fuck it with a condom lest you want AIDS