When you’re thirty, you’re supposed to know
things already. You’re supposed to have
your **** together. A wife, maybe
even a kid. But this man still felt
like a boy. Shrugging life away
with cigarettes stealthily
torn from the box,
afternoon breaks
whistling through the
scabby throat, weeping silently
into his cigarette, smiling empty through
the golden tint of a pitcher of beer. Sadness sat
in his eyes and it never seemed to go away. The sadness
made him look younger, more innocent. He thought no one noticed.

But someone did.

Its always there, in the back of my mind.
Not like anyone cares
Not like I care much for it either
But its always there

A desire, like a craving for something sweet
A want
A need

It pulls me in sometimes
It wont leave until its satisfied
It never is
I wont allow it

It makes me think
It keeps me sane and aware
It breaks me down and eats me inside


Id be confined
I would be left in isolation, away from those who believe in the illusion of safety

I wouldn't stop at just one
I couldn't have a limit once I begin
Why stop when I have already started?