77 - Froth

Over your shoulder, you can see

Nobody looking at me

Black eye

Softer than all things in their lives

Up to the ceiling, so white

Black ice, black ice, black ice

Try to go do me right

Steady backward movement now

Saving not, but clean me out

Living back here, I recall

Chewing Perry’s Tylenol

Days becoming more discreet

I never thought I’d be here