I’ve been breathing in the city air as if it will renew my insides

In reality its just polluting me all over again.

when i was younger i used to look up and see skies filled with shapes and inspiration

now i just see blobs.

gritty, filthy, unhealthy

i miss my positive perpsective, I’ve lost hold of it and i can’t seem to find it anywhere.

i keep slamming into concrete walls. they are cracked and unsteady, but relentless. i can’t force them down, maybe I’m just not trying hard enough. I’ve tried making nice with it, I’ve smoothed plaster in its cracks, making each dreary, destructive memory a distant, covered up story. you can’t cover up the bad though no matter how hard you try to hide it, it always comes and seeks you out. i envy the bad though, how it stays so strong despite all attempts to rid of it, i wish that i could be that powerful.

I haven’t seen your face in two years, i wonder how you would look now. would you have even more grey hairs then you already did? would age greet you with astounding stealth and love? would you tell me every things going to be okay.

I’ve been grasping for signs but everytime i open my fist its empty. Sometimes i feel like you’re in the military again, deployed but you’ll come back. You’re not coming back and each empty birthday is a reminder of that. every corner i turn i still expect you to pop out and say boo. you’re dead and that would be considered haunting, which I’ve told you not to do to me.

every day i still go through the cycles

regret, anger, confusion, sadness, numbness

i need you to tell me everything is going to be okay.