God I'm
crazy and
weak.

I wish I still
believed and
could pray -it
really did
help-

A godless
world is exactly
what you'd imagine
it to be -partially
because we
live in it-

I hate
that once
a month I'm
stuck being a
girl with girl needs
and girl whims

I hate that
it makes me
actually miss
you when you're
gone: acknowledge,
assess, process,
exactly  
how long it's
been

Maddening.

I imagine
disgusting globs
of whatever
stuff you claim
to have so much of
sloughing

off,
crawling away
half dead in the
cold coming to
the window to
tap, or perhaps
the door
to
knock like a
lonely soul and

you know
I've a psilocybin
enduced empathetic
streak embedded deep,
couldn't possibly
leave a thing to
freeze on its
own,
but
still yet
intruding
against my
will:

This is
the only
explanation:
I could not
thus feel
otherwise
by myself,
nevertheless
being mired
in such muck

I hate
being stuck
with the absence
of you for days
at a time
-especially with
these blobs
reminding of how
once
you were willing
to drive to
Tom's before
I had to cath him
at 2:30
in the morning

Just to smoke
and talk
a little
while

I doubt any of that
even matters now

God...
I must
be crazy
going crazy
acting crazy

I hate it.

I also hate
hating things.