Astroglide.

[Certain]

The walls are bubbling. Water damage,
it could all come tumbling down.
But before I can stall my stumbling,
I fall. The bumbling clown finds his first laugh.
The mindless words snap with ease,
but beliefs are a timeless burlap
to store your sorrows in, so find a church fast.
Pour the porridge into three bowls of different size,
and watch as the pretty blonde robs these bitches blind.
If you did survive the grits and grime, you'd probably look at God in a vivid light.
But I haven't had shit to fight.
I'll gather a spliff and write about madness that visits nights
and weekends. My sleep ends when I get home from work.
Bemoaned, I turn over in bed, but stone-sober I fled to cold-shoulder events.
I'm thrown over the edge by vicious bitches. Alone at church,
this apartment is my only perch.

And I've got to hang my hat somewhere.