- Briskless -

I grow tired of this,
the empty Brisk can seems to mock my presence,
as if to say I’m unworthy of its company,
as if tools are of no use on its contents,
as if it couldn’t be manipulated to my own secret desires,
as if this sugar high is some way for the can to masturbate.
I’d not have it any other way.
And neither would the empty page sitting in front of me,
it’s only purpose is to remind me of my failures and my demise,
it’s only going to drive me to the brisk again!
I dare not touch such once more,
for I may lose all hope in recovering the one thing that means something,
my perverted childhood memories.
They’re next to go,
either that or my manhood.
The boy in the painting to the left has been fishing just to annoy me.
He’s been there for years now.
Always fishing!
As if I’d have something better to do then watch and see if the image ever changes!
He actually thinks I’ll continue,
Foolish boy.
And now even my hand’s against me.
Telling me I’m unworthy for it’s nes!
I’d be ashamed to be the hand talking to the man with no brisk!
And ashamed it was,
so it left me.