I would say I've lost my touch but that implies that I had a touch.
I would say everything I now touch turns to rust but that would imply that it once turned to gold.
I would say I'm going crazy but that would imply that I was once sane.
I would say I still love you but that would imply that I once loved you.
I would say I wish I had a cigarette but I wish I had a cigarette.

I don't understand.
I don't understand.
I don't.

Why am I here?
Why am I typing?
Is it to solicit a response?
Is it a desperate plea?

I am falling and I will never be caught.
Not by ground, not by mitt, not by death.


I'm getting bad again.
I'm breaking bad.
I'm breaking ties.

Maybe a change would be nice.
Maybe I can cut all of my ties and form a new life.
It almost sounds appealing.
But *******, I've loved my friends for too long to cut them out.
But I've hated myself for longer.