Who you used to be
Is between the cracks
In the cushions of your mind,
And at night when you need it
Reach down underneath it

Grab her hand and dig her out
She asking you how things turned out.

Who we used to be,
What we used to know
And see
Is a lesson for who you need to be.

Don't be afraid to ask,
Who you thought you lost.

What exactly
is the point
of all this?

To eat
To sleep
To ****
To work
and repeat
for
the following days

The occasional smile
to break the mundane

The daily monotony
is but a realization

So we sleep
we sleep the
nights away
and repeat
for
the following days

Wash away the days pain
with a swig of whisky

The point of
all this, you ask?

is to repeat
each day until
your final breath
depletes the
one chance
you had at
all of this…

I hate myself so deeply for everything I've done
I can tell you with sound mind
If it weren't for the ones that really love me
And remind me on a regular basis
This conversation would have stopped abruptly after high school.

I'm a sub being I'm a snowflake blah blah blah
Waste of time and taxpayers money
I am a scar and a stupid story that has only
Itself to blame
But here I am.
In your god ****** face.
And your mind.
And your heart.
Etched into the very day you die
With my stupid words and blahologies
And my annoying *******
You hate me?
Look at what I just said about me.

I'll probably die before you
Take solace in that
Have fun with the rest of the ****.

A family friend recently
Gave me a Pillow
That I thought was so comfy.
She said "Please get this **** thing
Off my couch."
And I proudly accepted.
I brought it home, cuddled
Put my face to it's round corner
And breathed.
The smell this pillow Gave wasn't too Familiar, no.
It smelled like family movie nights,
Eating at dinner tables.
It smelled like missing a sibling,
But knowing they'll be home when you get there.
It smelled like affection from a tired mother, And falling asleep on her chest.
The smell, not so familiar
Sent me chills
Because the round corners smelled like Everything I crave.
The soft, tender touch of a hand,
And knowing it's not of judging intent.
The smells upon this pillow
Reminding me that
I don't have a way to satisfy my
Craving.

Does the sun shine after the rain?

I want to,
But I won't.
I need a
Little smoke
But I won't
Cause gettin' it
Means getting up
And once I'm up
My world just flips
Right back down
As I fall too
Into a thousand curtains
Hiding me from what
I want to see
A window where
It's warm outside
But pressing my cheek against
The fabric seems to be enough
I've got to run
But I walk
And the talk of something new
Brings hope for something worse
And confidential lullabies
Sing me to sleep tonight
I'll call you on the phone and say
"I'm good, what about you?"
And you'll say "Good"
And we'll talk for hours repeating same lines
And avoiding the part where you tell me
You are driving to clear your mind
Cause bruises stay sore
And you never tell me anything anymore

The bucket fills with soft emotion
It starts with small amounts
The faucet does keep flowing
Til is spills onto the mouth
"I like you"