My brother did a lot of bad stupid things
And after much debate with myself
And after attempts to quiet them down
(one involving throwing the breakers, but I didn't realize that they would all have lighters to whip out)
I called my mother
I still want to cry
And I'm not kidding or exaggerating when I say that I wish I had a gun to shoo them out with
I wish I had a long knife, built for fighting
I wish I had some cyanide to add to their alcohol or pour on their pot
Arsenic and access to all of their cigarettes
Other things I've yet to think of.



That first sip of chocolate is like an ecstasy
And I wish that feeling could last forever
Because it's so big that it can drown out the world
That I hate so much