taking a cold meteor shower

my body now begs and questions as i lay down here in bed.
there are a million jumbled messages inside my worn out head.
i can hear the mass-confusion and the binary breakdown brings me dead.
now all i want is a brush so i can paint my dead bed red.

i have seen the gaping holes left in perfect furtures incomplete.
how are you and can you recognize what you have done to me?
my body's calling for an answer but the time of day is all i've got.
and i sit here and i contemplate moving from this spot.

the lights are on, the doors are open, and anyone could come right in.
i could choose to lock the doors, and drown inside a glass of gin.
what would be the fun in that when i could lie here cold and so awake?
thoughts of train cars passing by -which of them are runnung late?