**** life, I feel like death. I feel like dyin. Tired of sighin. Fed up with continuously fruitlessly tryin. Really high and im flyin. Cant stay up forever. Still though, ill never stop smokin, no never. Im too real to stay or be sober, thats how it feels. Burn my own flesh sometimes, just to feel. Into shadow shards I peel. On blistered and ****** knees I kneel. For this life is too heavy.

Words are wind and we are dirt. With disaster I flirt. ******* mother nature just to watch her squirt. Boiling tsunamis and enormous hurricanes. Breathing lava veins, losses but no gains. Im starving stains, water as it floods and drains. Im pain as it pours and maims.

Winter words and summer birds all call to me wonderfully. Woeful discontented rage never vented. Running in dry rivulets out of my gaping eye sockets. No skeletons in my closet, but there ARE dripping molding bones stuffed into my pockets. Lined with self loathing. My very favorite style of clothing.

Ill ramble and roll right on. Rollin and ramblin. Bettin and gamblin all of my hope away. If I were you I would bet against me. Trees and tears raised me. Look, see? Ive got bark for skin and my confidence is thin. I would write more. But I would not know how, when, or where to even begin.