Polishing off the bottle of wine I intended to ****** you with,
alone.
One glass in, and you ceased your drinking, our romance, and my foul intentions.
I want so badly to be broken by this, be angry, be sad, be hopeless.
Instead I'm thinking about how admirable your honesty is, how I wish more people had that courage.
I'm left here wishing I was lying when I said I was just that detached.

There is a labor dispute protest
outside of the hospital I was born in and
I can't help thinking
Did this ****** up world formulate this ****** up mind?
Or did I  simply come into this world corrupt
with the surroundings to match?

I've been cripplingly depressed these last few months and
it is beginning to take it's toll on my body,
I'm so sick of regulars at my workplace commenting
on how thin I've become.
A friend hugged me,
felt my protruding rib cage and asked if I was okay.
I said, define okay, because the word has lost it's meaning
over the repetition of the phrase in my mind,
i'm okay, i'm okay, i'm okay.

These lows,
so easily justifiable
when I'm just drunk, and sad.
But it's so much harder
when i'm sober and my world's still falling apart.

I am soberish now and
realizing the extent to which I am not over so many things.
I am not over the rejection of the boy I still so badly desire,
and having to see him so happy with his old lover.
I am not over how drained I feel from 50+ hour work weeks.
I am not over the discomfort of the place I call home.
I am not over the past lovers who despise me.

Then there is you,
the former lover I still lust for,
I'm so very much not over you,
yet I know things couldn't possibly ever work out.
I am ******* sick to death of dreaming of you every god ****** night,
waking only to feel utterly demolished inside.
It's been months, why won't you leave my mind?

I'm on the brink of insanity and
I don't even know where to begin
to find the path to recovery.