Dec 2016
I'm sure we've all been to that place in time where we feel like we let ourselves float out the window.
Scraping bits and pieces of our old skin to leave behind on the dusty sill.
Sitting in the corner of your room cuddling your knees together at your chest. Burying your eyes into your arms trying to figure out when it all went wrong.
Or if it even was going right in the beginning.
Time after time you never felt like you were winning. A runner up in every race. Your heels buckle at the thought of getting ahead and you can always seem to hit the pavement harder each time you fall.
Lying next to you, a silver barrel. Cold and unused. It's brought you comfort time and time again. The only one there for you when the walls of your house come crashing in.
Inside the chamber is loaded with a single bullet. Packed full of powder, your hopes, dreams and aspirations.
Reminders of happiness and the days you spent laughing with ones you love over breakfast and that time you accidentally spilled your drinks on your mother's carpet when she was away on business.
An old lover and memories of how her skin felt when was pressed against yours.
Childhood mischief and the excited panic of running home when the streetlights came on. Your father's care and how he always told you of your remarkable tenacity.
Everything was so fruitful until you took charge and your head took control of you.
So you pick up the cold steel and press it tightly against your head. Staring out the open window at the landscape of buildings and the streets polluted with conversation, the smell of old tires and half empty dumpsters. Reel the hammer back to hear the click of freedom's ring through your ears and feel it rattle through your bones.
One deep breath that fills your lungs full of stagnant air. Once a person of failure that could never succeed but you never sought it through to the end but you knew you were too self loathing to try and the devil on your shoulder could speak louder than you ever could so you could never talk your way out of it.
Your heart racing faster than it did when she first kissed you. Your knees tremble against your chest. The arm you have free clutches your legs to remain still. Streetlights flicker. You can't squeeze your eyes any tighter. It's impossible to try.
Father patting you on the back. "Good job, boy". Slight breeze whistles through the window as the winds pick up outside. Cleaning up after your parties before your mother got home.
Press the barrel harder against your head until it hurts. Conversations below bellow through the alleys and spill into the corridors. You've never been success because you were greeted with failure around every corner. But this time you know exactly what you were doing and how to get it.
So you pull the trigger.
Scraping bits and pieces of our old skin to leave behind on the dusty sill.
Sitting in the corner of your room cuddling your knees together at your chest. Burying your eyes into your arms trying to figure out when it all went wrong.
Or if it even was going right in the beginning.
Time after time you never felt like you were winning. A runner up in every race. Your heels buckle at the thought of getting ahead and you can always seem to hit the pavement harder each time you fall.
Lying next to you, a silver barrel. Cold and unused. It's brought you comfort time and time again. The only one there for you when the walls of your house come crashing in.
Inside the chamber is loaded with a single bullet. Packed full of powder, your hopes, dreams and aspirations.
Reminders of happiness and the days you spent laughing with ones you love over breakfast and that time you accidentally spilled your drinks on your mother's carpet when she was away on business.
An old lover and memories of how her skin felt when was pressed against yours.
Childhood mischief and the excited panic of running home when the streetlights came on. Your father's care and how he always told you of your remarkable tenacity.
Everything was so fruitful until you took charge and your head took control of you.
So you pick up the cold steel and press it tightly against your head. Staring out the open window at the landscape of buildings and the streets polluted with conversation, the smell of old tires and half empty dumpsters. Reel the hammer back to hear the click of freedom's ring through your ears and feel it rattle through your bones.
One deep breath that fills your lungs full of stagnant air. Once a person of failure that could never succeed but you never sought it through to the end but you knew you were too self loathing to try and the devil on your shoulder could speak louder than you ever could so you could never talk your way out of it.
Your heart racing faster than it did when she first kissed you. Your knees tremble against your chest. The arm you have free clutches your legs to remain still. Streetlights flicker. You can't squeeze your eyes any tighter. It's impossible to try.
Father patting you on the back. "Good job, boy". Slight breeze whistles through the window as the winds pick up outside. Cleaning up after your parties before your mother got home.
Press the barrel harder against your head until it hurts. Conversations below bellow through the alleys and spill into the corridors. You've never been success because you were greeted with failure around every corner. But this time you know exactly what you were doing and how to get it.
So you pull the trigger.
