My mind, my memories, and my nostalgia
Resemble into one of those
Boards they make when a crime is committed.

Cork boards with crumpled family photos
Pinned helpless with a rusty push pin.

Profiles of everyone who I loved
And everyone who loved me.

Lines drawn in blood connecting all of the events.
Everything chronological.

The gory, ******, close ups.
From when all of these scars were in the making.

Maps with X's and O's.
Like holiday cards from my grandmother.

Sporadic, confusing, and painful for anyone to look at.
Grusem and misleading.
Can't be fixed.
Can't be helped.
Can't be solved.

Soon to be a cold case file.

Tonight is a bad kind of nostalgic.
The music started reminding me of all you guys.
Thrift shopping and cooking in your stockpile kitchen.

And puking in public restrooms,
And late night fifty dollar tattoos
Are some of last years memories.
And those songs don't feel to good either.

And even last week's music
Makes me feel bitter.

And I tried to flashback from earlier in the 2000s.
But that was music from when I was fourteen.
The angst years will now be left alone.
Jesus I have the shakes again.

Bad night.
Bad night.
A splash of coffee in my whiskey.
It's not alright.
It's not alright.
I'm not alright.
Alright?

Eventually I will run out of drugs.
Eventually I'll have to get my **** together.
Eventually everyone will stop loving me.