When I get in these moods
I find so much beauty in decay
there is romance round every corner
in boarded up windows
in smoke rising from burning buildings
in flickering florescent light bulbs of gas station bathrooms

when will I realize, my life is not a ******* film,
a gathering of beautiful moments
be they of joy
or that of decay
no, it contains all bits of time
dark and sorrowful
thrilling and story worthy
tedious and boring
but more often than not, lacking beauty of any sort

but it is so very much like me
to focus exclusively on small details
rather than acknowledge the levity of the entire situation
how it weighs on myself
how it weighs on others

because a family once lived behind those boarded up windows,
before being served an eviction notice
and someone's grandmother's photos were lost in that fire
and the needle in the trash of that bathroom is someone's last and only reprieve from this life

I can't help the pieces of him
from falling to my feet with every step I take
I am a ******* wreck of a person
right now
perhaps always
my trivial problems overwhelm me
just as much as the guilt I feel for letting them
whilst watching the migration of the homeless
as winter approaches with bitter ferocity
whilst stepping over the blood soaked carpet
of a friends apartment
trying desperately not to stare too long at stitches
and I still cannot even bring myself to take down
the ******* picture
he gave me
still hanging on my bathroom wall

I wonder helplessly for the fate of lives I've abandoned
for those that once surrounded me
as well as that of my own
like running into an old friend
poking relentlessly
attempting desperately
to paint a picture of
their everyday life
as it stands today
unachievable through means of small talk
I often wonder for the lives my old lovers lead
today
I am coming to terms with the fact that
it is not my place
to care for them any longer
I often wonder where I'd be today
had I chosen to stay
awhile longer
I often wonder
just what it was
about this particular one
that made falling in love
seem worth it
and just how have I managed
to stay this long ?

Today it took me two hours
twelve markers
half a roll of paper towels
and seventeen redos
to fill a whiteboard at my place of work
Today I counted steps
in the sidewalk blocks as I walked
1
1, 2
1, 2
1
only having to backtrack and repeat
twice
Today I stood in the tiny wooden doorway
of my apartment's fire escape
for the entire duration of my cigarette
terrified to step foot on the steel grate
all for fear of the lightning in the distance
because after a brief ocular inspection
I was so certain
that there is no god ****** way this building
is up to code in that regard
Today I couldn't help but wonder
what ever has happened in my life
to once again trigger
these neurotic thought patterns
that plague me from time to time

It is simply not right
The way the mind can go from a state of complete
apathy
From being so far away
From not giving two ***** if the world around you
happened to disintegrate
To being so enamored with all that surrounds you
be it loved ones
or simply the feeling of fresh September rain
to the point of fear
that all that is good is fleeting
and could happen to disintegrate
in a flash
before your very eyes

I've been losing sleep
this past week or so
despite the fact I could never blame him
for the bags under my eyes
sluggish demeanor
I'd rather be up
sleepless
in my own home
despite the floorboards' creak
in a tiny apartment
with room mate silent
in peaceful slumber
I'd much rather not disturb
all noises heard
with every step
I take to the door
to inhale savory smoke
I'd rather move quietly
in my own home
because at least the cold steel of the fire escape
is soothing in some way
And although he's miles away from
the reasons I struggle to lay my head down
I'd rather be restless on my own
I'd rather be restless alone

My upper lip is still tingling from your upper lip's stubble,
and I am feeling nostalgic tonight.
Don't tell me to take care of myself,
I'm not joking when I say I'm looking for ways to
slowly force my body to shut down for good.
This place is a ghost town at this golden hour of 3 am.
I'm killing myself slowly.
I was brought up broken.
Skipping school, long bus rides going nowhere,
flashbacks like picture shows of a young, hopeless hooligan.
When I look in the mirror, I still see that child,
and she haunts me.
I've gotten by, by romanticizing the pain.
Finding beauty in the hard times
bad, ugly, sorrow dripping
hard drugs in bathtubs
like a movie scene before the upswing
and the happily ever after.
Though this life's been a cinematographic goldmine,
I just don't see the conclusion as being so bright.
Forever waiting on that upswing,
and there's simply no happily ever after in sight.
Who knew we'd still survive after so many years of
persistently seeking death ?
I never thought I'd end up here today.
So much has occurred I could've never predicted.
I never thought I'd seek the things I've sought,
There is so much of me that's still very much the same.
I never thought I'd carry this apathy so close all these years...
Who am I to plead remembrance,
when I've consistently chosen the path of least resistance ?
I am nothing.
Perhaps someday I'll fertilize the soil beneath your feet,
in this moment, that's where my aspirations lie.
In this moment, my concerns lie for those who's window lies across from my parking spot where my headlights shine bright as I arrive home at 3 am rather than for my car's broken mirrors or my expired license plate numbers.
Moved out to the suburbs sometime late August,
and in this moment, I'd be lying if I said I didn't often appreciate those long solo drives home in the early hours of the morning.
A tobacco smoke filled vehicle is my go-to place for self reflection.