‘Nother Round

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.

The whiskey glass is wise during these moments of doubt. It reminds me of the bruises on your thighs, purple and obvious against the backdrop of your pale skin. For an extra $6, it refills and says that they weren't made by my hands. Your sentiments hit the ground like ash, falling from an unfiltered … Continue reading