Do you see the trash piling up?

A stutter in the mouth and a snake in the nest..this bitter baby flails its limbs against the walls of a labyrinthine chest. Spill it if you can't fulfill it..check the pulse but don't kill it. Questions hang in the air like ornaments without a christmas tree....What..Next?.. I've got my finger on the trigger and you've got nothing..check the cards if you think I'm bluffing. Voodoo vice and a knife in the ice. If you say it once, then you can say it twice. Underneath this sullen moon, well I talk too hard and I pause too soon..the waitress was great, but the food was rude..and the days spill out like Time's got a spout.
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I don't know what I'm writing, sometimes I just like to start typing and see what shows up. I've got a hangover, I've got a pocket of anxiety over the creativity shit. Spent last night at the bar with a friend, we know the bartender so he gave me several free shots and we all hung out there after hours..thankfully he walked me home at 3am, I was so tired and stumbly. Not too shitty though..made myself drink alot of water, and that really seems to be the secret to keeping my buzz below an irrational roar. Alot of conversations about music, writing, etc etc... Feeling so bogged down by too any projects, too many strings pulling and the old wounds ache in the rain and I really need to get away, but I don't trust that impulse. The mess is always there, you look at it..be it childhood parent issues or a pile of dirty clothes on the floor..you want to get out for awhile, take a break, look at it with fresh eyes. But really..c'mon you lazy fuck the only way to to get past it is to head straight into it and GET RID OF IT. I think I'm just pouting around when really I need to pull up the sleeves...
Ugh. Where to start?