Impulse; thrills.
Dark silent chills.
Cold whispers, stills.
Waiting; still.

All these people talking, but i can't hear a thing.

You don't always have to be alone to be lonely.

i want—
i want to talk to the wrong crowd

It's been ten days since I've written.
Ten days I've been an uninspired mess.
Ten days I've had the little dizzies after standing up too quickly.
Ten days I've felt rug burn in my cheeks and cotton mouth in my eyes.
Ten days I've felt the grease ooze from my hair down my back.
Ten days I've found a home in the unswept floorboards by the door.
Ten days I've bathed in crumpled, ink infected papers.
Ten days I've drawn blood from dry lips no longer able to whistle.
Ten days I've doubted tomorrow.
Ten days I've...just...

Today is the yesterday that you'll regret throwing away tomorrow.