The Shit of Adim Witt

Bruising alone,
Using alone.
I’ll be here for a while,
Scratching away my smile,
Getting stoned,
All alone…

Just so you know,
It’s not personal.
You can’t get me high,
You can’t make me fly.
I’d rather roam,
All alone.

And so it goes…
This is the road.
It’ll end when I die,
Find me crinkly and dry,
Skin and bones,
All alone.