the first 11 days

red clouds of wine,

keep rising from under my bed,
when it bubbles it takes me of my edge,

its nice to see, the wavy patterns,

its nice to see water, after the smoke lifts,

i cant eat the crap of my ancestors,

but i miss it so,

bread crumbs on my finger tips,

crunchy drums which caress my lips,

sitting in a crowded place,

seeing white faces smile with grace,

its new, its different, i have no clue,

just the smoky circles, they fill my room,

i have a circle beneath my ear,

i do nothing but its spiky hair,

its a big big city, with so many orange lights,

and from my friends house i can see my past frights,

lifes too boring, wishes so small,

i miss my Angel and i wish i cud call,

2 months, we promised ourselves,

then i`d be with her, we`d be together again,

shes all i need, its true this isnt a dream.