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.