red-rum

 my head hurts, and my fingers throb. i can only right poetry, i can not sob. my eyes water, and my throte scraches. im burning quicker, than a book of matches. they where more than words, right from the start. but you ripped them to peices, and threw them at my heart. my eyes are black, and my fingers are numb. i guess thats what happens, when you drink to much rum.