In the Exponential Hours- by:unknown forgotten

Well, if those aren't the words that drive me to drinking
Such shaky nerves I can hardly see straight
You might as well told me to have a drink for you, and for death
To engulf myself into a maniacal liver-splitting binge
Hanging down under the bridges and by the railroad tracks
Screaming at the urban graffitti about how much I hate 'The Man'

Then,
If those words aren't the same that instill the very worst fear
The kind that only sickness induced dreams can bring forth
Thriving off the boiling brain and fever
With the sane mentality disappearing ever so swiftly
Depsite the icepacks the doctor insisted be placed on my baking skull
Dreams indescribeable in words for such terror therewithin is enough,
Enough to make a grown man break down and cry and want to die

Then,
If those aren't the words that broke my back
And my knees, and my ankles, and my neck
Such a frightful collapse if anybody had been there
They would have thought God himself smited my very being with his Almighty foot
Curled up in a fleshy painful heap, arms flailing frantically about
Helpless to move or get help
Twists in my neck so harsh my throat is collaped,
Further unable to scream for reprieve, but also unable to breathe
In such fear of decease I stabbed a pen through my throat
And lay still as the pain caused me to black out

Then.
I slept well for the first time in along time that night