Another day, another night.
You say their debt outweighs their death.
Logic dispels the search through trash and mildewed lore.
Makeup runs and your choices stay.
Becoming much thinner now yes?
The air is unintelligible.
These things will last.

Abandoned not loved, the fate of your newest choice;
a most crystalline series of poor choices, calculated missteps and those carefree mistakes.

Like the smoke flown from your lungs over the roof of neon discotheque.

Either/or.

You smell of spoiled treasure.

Move past the decay, past perfumes and powders.
There is you, skeletal and shaking on a small bed in the middle of a dark place with a hint of light all around you, shadows form on the edge, the mythos surrounding your empty head, but never bending to enlighten you.
Stay still.

I wake and close my eyes, giving up my search for wonder.
Stubborn.

Revise. something about a mother's parents dying. they, giving their only daughter a bell pepper. something when the daughter cuts it open to cook with, but noticing it's inside nearly seedless. something like a withered womb. something like the barren and the futile. or mostly something like a child realizing it will soon be all alone forever with nothing to hold but the choices it has made. something like that.
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writ
ewrite
write
sober