At My Best

i’m getting paranoid again,
I’m reconfiguring
slowly
these nights,
when I try to decompress
I get lonely

it’s not like you give a fuck if I’m ok
it’s not like you ever knew me anyway
and I don’t know why I even care
every time I see you sitting there

can’t seem to fucking think of any words
a head full of verbs
none of which appropriate

you only seem to see me when I’m at my worst
a low-grade parasite
bivalve of approbium

you never see me at my best
I’m always drunk, trying to impress
Apologise for the time we last met
playing catch-up in an infinite regress

I try to show you that I’m not what you think
knocking back my problems with another fucking drink
and every chance I ever fucking had of proving otherwise
I self-sabotage, I auto-demonize

it’s like a fairytale
sprinkle me with alcohol
I try to crush the paranoids with paracetamol

I live between the words
we dress up like we know them all
I am another demographic of the demerol

if I was you
and you were me
well, I wouldn’t blame you
for the things you fucking see

one, two, I’m not like you
three, four, and I need some more
five, six, analyse these tricks
seven, eight, never procreate

one, two, gonna push right through
three, four, on the cold, hard floor
five, six, with a tough remix
seven, eight, learn to hide your fucking hate