And The Weekend Gets Progressively Worse...

Yup. I thought the weekend couldn't get any worse. But as Life generally is, it did.

I'm all washed up. Gone. But before I resign myself to hollow depression, lets have a little Ode of sorts.

17 Pills

17 pills took I,
Just to get myself high.
For sorrow and morbid fantasies occupied me,
Malignant thoughts that keep me happy.

17 pills took I,
For I could not let myself cry
Out for help or for love, no not I;
What ill luck that I did not die.

Feel a little better now.