Spun

I’m feeling kind of wasted
kind of back in time
my head is all but spinning
lashing out in rhymes
melting like cheap plastics
and running over dry
drips they drop like rocks
down the corner street
I’m feeling kind of wasted
kind of left behind
like everything was fine
but now I’m not alright
everything is plastic
to long left in the sun
melting in the moonlight
spinning like a top that’s spun

Unwashed

We don’t know how to let go
to move on anymore
we don’t know how to let go
to heal or leave it behind
we just hold on
hold on too tight
we use the loss to keep us up at night
to grant us power and make us seem
like we deserve attention and things
we don’t know how to let go
four years later we bring it up now
won’t move on anymore
we keep standing at the door
waiting using and feeling the loss
we don’t let go we’re all unwashed