Wanker

"I'm a fucking loser.." He took another puff of his stale cigar, he was out of cigarettes, couldn't buy more. Summertime, the fish were swimmin, he was losing his mind, he wanted her so bad, but he couldn't see her. She was heavy, but she enlightened him. He was looking for something, he was thirsty for it, hungry, starving. She was his soul food, but she had something bigger than his burden, she had something that he could not stand. "I'm such a fucking loser!" He said it again, like he had forgotten. The smoke was heavy, he couldn't sleep, he had to be up early, but she didn't let him get his rest, out of him, she got the best. "Baby, baby, baby, baby... Don't cry, oh no!!!" He broke out in song. He inhaled, he choked on the stale tobacco, his throat felt thickly coated, the tar grew in his mouth. Life gave Peter lemons, and he decided to smoke the lemon peels. It didn't make you high, no rush, no thrill, no dizziness, he just wanted to smoke it. He was naturally wacked out, he didn't give a shit, he just wanted to say he'd done it, he'd been there, done that. "I'm a bloody fucking wanker.."