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Apr 2018
I can't find my motivation again...

I feel the pull of my bed drag me towards it like I'm a discarded piece of metal subjected to the power of an industrial magnet, waiting to be put on the compactor and meet my clautrophobic end

I can't remember where I left my smile last night
I put it on my night stand, I'm sure... or did I?
Drunkeness forbids me from forming a coherent thought about the laughter I vaguely remember, or if it ever existed

I spit out the blood in my mouth from the grinding of my teeth like a rusty, old hinge that can hardly move to open the cage in which I imprisoned my own happiness

My arms can't seem to hold on tight enough to life, at least not today
I can feel the dread in my thoughts constantly taunt me, poking at every one of my imperfections, shouting at my low self esteem, and my guilt choking me to the point of unconsciousness, because I oppose not

The words I vomited along with all the beer, still stain my clothes and my skin, reminding me of the hangover to come
I will hate myself for having done so, and I will promise myself to never drink or love again

But that's a promise I never keep
Krusty Aranda
Written by
Krusty Aranda  MΓ©rida
     James Schreiber and ---
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