Pirouette

The newspapers were right: I'm going to drink myself to death tonight. Wait, stop, back up. I just caught myself taking myself seriously again. Weight drops, facts, loves. Eyes. Lust, not myself, was faking nice well. Seriously? Again? I'm shocked and a pallbearer. It's locked in: a call fearer. I don't want to hear the news. Shut myself back in with a tear and a bruise in a shallow place, wearing away at this callow face. So what if I'm clichéd? Let's call this heart a three of spades and start digging me up. Send a kiss through the mail and keep on rigging me luck. Knowing this, I won't bail but I may stop to waste my hunch money. Something about the knows kept the launch runny, but on this jaunt through Hell, I'll still want to taste your smell. There're only a million ways to say "Better to burn out than fade away." I'm not the one from your dreams: things are just the way the seams tear me an opening. You spared me the jokes and things.