The
worst
time to
have an
existential
crisis is when
you're home, broke
and out of cigarettes.
The smoke can still my
mind and it can clean my
soul. It's funny, the cleaner,
the more sober I get the dirtier
I feel. I think it's because
in these sober moments
I learn more about the
crystal I sniff into my
nose and I learn
more about
myself
and I
learn
more
about
the
world.

I don't know what to say
right now.
The simplicity of this page haunts me
It's too easy
I'm used to more options
Endless confusion
Charts spotted with lines and dots and angles
and rights and wrongs and yes's and no's
Mazes with corners and rigid edges
like life is allowed to be put into boxes
like breaths and thoughts and the surface of tears
dripping like melting glass from an eyelash
are meant to be stuffed into sharpness
without the blessing of shadows
not gradual
like
the snap of electricity through an outlet
frying all the atoms in its path.
I'm cold, it's dark,
I whisper.

Walking through a tunnel,
a cage,
barbed wire linking.
Scream, scream,
ache through the air,
matching voice to wind as it tosses white pine needles
through your hair, around your face,
leaves scratching dry pavement,
mixing with chinese takeout cartons
and Dunkin Donuts straws.
Everything seems heavy
boots, head, belly,
gravity strengthens and
your legs strain.
They watch you zooming by comfortable and spiteful and angry
oblivious,
curious.
Each breath forces itself shakily from your lungs and your heart beats quick and your arms strain against the bag on your shoulders and all you want to do is
RUN run run feel things disappear behind your back feel your hair lift off your neck feel feet hit pavement and muscles flex, feel your body pushing through air and emptiness, pushing forward with a goal to get somewhere. RUN but your boots are too heavy and your eyes weigh you down as they stare at your feet as you walk, as you walk,
as you walk.

all of my dreams have been about kissing you
                                                                         or dying.
it's haunting to know that these two things are what i have been craving most.
even more haunting is the fact that i cannot have both,
                                                                                        i have to choose.
                                          theme
there has been a common             in my life:
                                                                       choices have been
                                                                                                    my downfall.

since i have had this terrifyingly awesome power of choice i have abused it.
i have used it for nothing but personal gain,
                                                                      personal harm.
once i learned of the ability i posses to harm
it has overwhelmed me.
when i cause another grief it haunts me,
                                                                pursues me to my dreams and beyond.

guilt is a motivating factor in my life.
not more so than love,
                            hate.
but it is still powerful.

                                  i am not able to function properly.
                                  i get drunk
                                  i pass out on the couch
                                  i fall asleep with cigarettes burning in my hands
                                  i break my own heart, but watch out
                                  i'll break yours too.