Brain won't rest. Mental marathon runner. Meds don't work. Alcohol doesn't work. Drugs don't work. Second chances. Third chances. Seven, eight, nine chances. Reruns of the same shitty show. Taken out and played with like an old toy that provides some sort of fucked up nostalgic comfort. Time to collect dust again.
Category: Poetry
Staring into a digital void, hoping my signal has been reached. Signs of love on life support. Unplug me and watch the batteries die. They don't recharge.
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Running from an inevitable future, only a few steps and a hurdle ahead. Slips, sprains, broken-hearted dreams, unbridled ditch-deep debt. Hair clogs the drain as poor genetics take up residence like unwanted family. Future romantic dates require a preamble, better bring a jacket for the cold shoulder. Six years too old for five years of … Continue reading 36
Bitter Pills
The pills taste like ash and manipulation as they struggle to slide down my throat. I chase them with diet soda because the filter to the purifier went bad, and I don't particularly care for the metallic taste of tap water. Reality is the largest pill in the bottle, and it hurts to swallow. Choke … Continue reading Bitter Pills
Trash Can
I stare at this page for what seems like hours. I try to write about nature, earthen beauty, descriptive imagery and all that other shit. Nothing materializes. Everything is black like the inside of an unlit cave. You know the kind: reeking of moisture and time, wrapped in a shawl of frigid memories. Full of … Continue reading Trash Can
