Wish my name was Casey Stoner

Sugary equivocation from the setting sun
I might not be the only one
You're not there to break my fall
Your one touch could've healed it all
And I just die, drop by drop
Wish she'd told me when to stop
Floating with these wavering shadows
Splattering the impassive ceiling
Searching for your dogdy outlines
Marking out your lines in the shifting shapes
The scraggly troubadour's soaring wails
Cutting up this frozen night into two
Come let's get going one more time
Let's spin the wheel once again, it'll all be fine
Or you can just leave this place
And be someone else's someone else

This is NOT an attempt at potery. Shit, poetry. My rhyming is horrible, so is my sense of form and rhythm.

And Lionel Messi is the reason why. Of course he isn't, what am I saying.

It's like waking up from a really nice dream and finding yourself naked on a busy highway with mice hard at work on all your orifices.