it never feels as good as it did when i made it up in my head.
what feeds me now?
there's a worm on the ground
but i'm out of cigarettes
and i can't have one without the other
i can't drink stably without you

there's a run in my tights
and i can't drink courageously without you
it's all haunted and pitiful
it's the one without the other
and pointless taxing tribulations
i can't drink righteously without

all the daydreamed thoughts
about wantings and being wanted
and wanton thoughts about
someone who might care for me so much

and this is the body you dress in the daytime
taking showers and cleansing
i take so much delight in
a communion
jesus said it once
a feast of the assumption
that i might not have to wake up on the floor
alone and despondently careless
about everything i ever thought might take delight in me
i think about these things
more than i'd like to let on
i'm nothing new under the sun
i'm the sad drunken chain smoker
who dreams more often than she lives

from what i can tell
the rain can't even take delight in me
and the snow tries its hardest
to pull me under