do you ever read what you wrote and try and recall the exact moment you knew you were so messed up that it all made sense to you, that those words meant more than random filler

ever sift through the remains of your life and try to put the puzzle back together again but it feels the best parts got taken out to the trash or stuck in the sole of another’s boots

stare into the bottom of the empty bottle of whiskey and blearily try and recall when it was you finished it before going to the cupboard for a fresh one you don’t need but thirst is strong

or stare at the barely restrained refrain leaking out of your untrained brain and just erase it all in hopes of maybe later it coming out better as you continue walking in the rain

if there were a big red reset button i would pry it off and launch it into space, i’m where i need to be wearing the same tender emotions on my sleeve and scribbling the same unreadable prosaic prose

the illiterate fool staring at another thundercloud and searching for the sliver of silver the liars and cheats decry to be there, the pot of fool’s gold at the end of this monochromatic rainbow

how many idiots have pissed away happiness in search of the next fake hope, the cure all for the self prescribed ills of detached awareness and taking perfection for granted as they chip away to prove the flaws were glaring the whole time

i’ll take my allotment of good with my heaping of horrendous if it will stop the wolves baying at my door, the fiends and their schemes, plotting to mine gems from the refuse and pass broken bottles off as heirlooms from a distant age

every taut scar a reminder to do better or die trying, and i am not dead yet you bastards, not for lack of internal and external testing, these limbs still move and this mind still races

it ain’t over until she tells me it is, and then it lingers on far past acceptable grieving has ended, so take your good will and best wishes and kindly fuck yourselves farewell