I've been trying to decipher my time here.
I feel as if it'll be too short or too long or not enough
But then I look at the word courage
and have an argument with myself.
"Who's braver, those who stay, wait it out until their body says, ' ding ding soup's up. I'm off the clock.'
or those who decide when the metaphorical soup is ready."
some devour it cold
some bodies hate soup and rather would sword fight with it's stomach.
Wanting to eat, but demanding, screaming to starve.
I ask myself, is living out a whole entire life gluttonous, even the wanting for it a sin?
would I really want a second helping?
More of those lonely nights, empty eyes and emptier bottles.
Or is it just enough to fill my head up at night.
sending me to sleep with stories to tell tomorrow.


Even the calendar gets hung.
who will get ripped down first, the pages on the wall or me?
So many people ask this everyday and many chose the ladder.


a rafter and a rope.
Leaving the calendar circled red with a part of them on the day it should be taken down.