sometimes
when i get really down and empty feeling
i just think about pulling out
the bottle of ***** under the cabinet
and downing the whole thing
or smoking a pack and a half
of freshly bought cigarettes.

and the sad part is
that i don't care
what it'll do to me in the long run.

i don't care
if the ***** will burn
as it travels down
my throat,
an enticing river
that corrupts in
flames;

i don't care
if the cigarettes
will end up giving me
a disease
i won't be able
to get rid of.

i'm beginning to wonder
how,
when,
and why
i started
not caring
anymore.

maybe
not giving a ****
is a part of me
that's been here

all along.

a.m.