I can’t say what the truth is can’t tell you what is mine or which way I am going only that I don’t want it to end even though I say I do on those days my breath lingers on the windowpane – opaqueness on translucency that’s what makes me realize I’m materialized but then it vaporizes as quickly
It’s this tendril of hope that I stretch out like a girdle around my middle and pray tomorrow will turn into something and I fiddle with that thought a lot while this goof d o w n s 100 proof