can't help but feel a little bit like a failure
even though I know better
the struggle makes you humble
if it doesn't,
open your eyes wider
overwhelmingly inspired
with too little energy
I've lost the identity
of everything I am mourning
it's a melting *** of sickness
I want to feel less
I want to be more
I've been ****** for so long
that being sober feels like a high
my bad mood killer
my void filler
last night I took a drive around my home town
I drove past every house I've ever had memories in
sort of a crazy behavior
but I'm addicted to the nostalgia within each one
if only I could locate the time frame
in which I stopped being honest with myself
but knowing that won't change the past
starting over is terrifying
I just want something that lasts
longer than my attention span
I want attention and affection
from a real ******* man
who isn't afraid of me
but doesn't scare me either
I know my worth
I have to free her
I have to be her
I need a breather
pass a joint my way

learning how,
trying to get comfortable in my skin again...
a new adventure, a challenge...
with both an enemy and a friend

there's blood on my hands
but blood on yours too
I wonder what would have happened if I never left
I wonder what would have happened we finished those riffs
those bolts of love like musical notes
bursting into flames right after they're wrote
passion only gets you so far
it doesn't always coexist with love
passion for lust
you were someone I thought I could trust
I have to move on, or combust
what choice do I have here anymore?
no passion left to settle the scores
the notes faded the minute we made the music
I just want someone to call me baby all the time
I'm relieved I'm not yours, while being sad you're not mine
that's gotta be some sort of sign of my state of mind
what reality do I exist in?
I just call it mine...
if I could
I would crush up nostalgia and snort a line
******* wired into me like muscle memory
like when my fingers touch piano keys
I remember the music
I remember your hands
I remember your apathy
I remember our plans
I remember the golden morning light
I remember the texture of your couch
I remember the smell of the air
I remember the taste of your mouth
I want to move on
I want to let go
I want to remember the potential of my glow
this is music only I'm writing now
and I'm the star of the ******* show

where did I come from
and what built me
the trees and unfamiliarity
uncertainty and anxiety
strength and witnessing the laboring
from those before me
nowadays there's always some article about something new that's ruining me
allegedly
and everybody else that's lonely
these ******* don't even know me
situational out of context diagnoses for free
drugs and bars and nothing
what's pleasurable anymore
we're teaching each other that it's nothing
instead of looking for the silver linings
might take me a little more digging
but I know I'm still trying
craving a lover who knows how to be loving
but I should probably learn how to be too
I'm nostalgic for when I was younger
cause back then we kept that **** alive
keeping it real while romanticizing everything all the ******* time
& these changing seasons give me flashbacks to memories that are only mine
I'm not sure if the others remember
I'm not sure if they were seeing the same sights
of the chipping paint on the side of the house in golden streetlights
the smoke from our cigarettes indoors clouding my eyes
I still think about you all the time
and everybody ******* else
scrapbook sheets stained and unclean make my brain melt
I'm tired of wondering if you're still hanging on
I'd rather know if you've moved on
but I suppose the silence says it all
you always said I could call
I don't know what I'd say if I did

Today when I was driving home from work
I saw a raccoon licking it's broken leg in the middle of the road
It was raining
I started immediately crying
No one was going to see it where they would soon be driving
I went back out later in the evening
and avoided going down the same road
because I didn't know what I'd be seeing if I did
now I'm back home eating
thinking it was just a raccoon
but that **** was really sad too
a better person would have saved it
but I'm not a worse person for not
I'm sorry little raccoon

I feel so far away from myself
while wanting freedom from my own mind
I'm overthinking everything all the time
meanwhile everything is so ******* poetic
it's almost overwhelming
a life source that isn't actually sustaining
I feel so many things fading
turning yellow on their edges and creasing
I don't want anyone to touch me
I don't want anyone to see me
I'm seeing too many memories
showing up in the shadows of my dreams
all in terrible color schemes
nothing is ever as dreamy as it seems
I'm floating on aimlessly
sadness grips me, it never misses me
it's a part of me,  I dance with it soulfully
it's melancholy, baby
I'm the melancholy lady
tip toeing on lines between different parts of me
wandering around
but not very gracefully

Stop saying sorry
for things you’re not sorry for
In the workplace
In a retail store
In every day life
Stop saying sorry so much
You’re doing fine
So long as you’re trying