I’m walking around without a destination in mind. I used to think that was a waste of my time, but now I know that I don’t need to have a specific goal so long as I keep moving forward.

I think I enjoy the night

Because it feels like

The beginning of the end.

I can use that darkness

To find myself again.

In the morning, it’s as if

The broken bits of me

Have become presentable,

Even taking on the form

Of avant garde art;

A patched up soul,

Center stitched heart,

All held together

By a long forgotten truth;

It’s okay if I make mistakes,

And even though it hurts,

I can still believe

That I deserve love.

“Pain is unavoidable, and sooner or later everyone reaches a breaking point. It’s okay that you’re broken, because being broken means you can be fixed.”

I am drawn to you,

Like starlight to black nights,

Or else the rough sea

To a sailors dreams.

If I am to continue,

My darling, I do so

From your spark

It has ignited the tinder,

Shaved from my chest,

Giving rise to a heat,

A roaring light.

You’ve gifted me the Sun,

And with it a simple hope,

That even though I am alone

I can find my own way home.

“I started smoking recently. I hate the taste, but I crave their warmth, and I have to admit…they make 2AM feel a lot less lonely.”

My blood is fighting against me.

I can feel it squirm throughout the day, a sharpness that begs for reciprocation.

I’m burning up all of my second chances for just a few moments of relief.

It’s nothing new, waking up to dried lengths of crimson.

It’s nothing new.

~And yet~

I take some solace in the fact that it still hurts.

Because that’s my only proof.

It’s undeniable proof…that I’m still human…

It’s the same dream every night. No matter what I try, my mind can only slip back into one train of thought, down the only path I can’t follow…

It’s so warm here, lying next to her. We are only holding hands, but that is enough to feel her everything. When we are this close I just want her to talk, talk about anything under the Sun and beyond. She’s close enough that the words come out in a whisper, and I feel like I’m not hearing her words so much as inhaling the air she’s pushing between her lips. I never want to leave this moment, because it’s just so Goddamn perfect. We roll over and catch each other’s eyes, and she smiles at me, and I cannot understand how I ever could have lived before her, along with the crushing realization that I won’t be able to live without her…But none of that matters right now, because this is a moment, our moment, and it’s a forever that will never be replaced.

Another day, another night, another wasted chance, another series of calls to apologize for the fuck-up that is me.

The cold bites away at already frost bitten toes while my tongue feels glued to the roof of mouth. My eyes are trained on the only source of light, the ever so bright sight of moving pictures; the modern marvel of television. They are meaningless sitcoms, containing characters nobody has ever been in “real life”. The noise goes in one ear and out the other. The shows are only there to provide different shades of lighting, pseudo-creative illumination for my mockumentary. Are the walls closing in around? No, rest assured, it is only the sound of your own hollow breath being caught up in your chest, no longer reaching your lungs, stopping the process of turning oxygen into carbon monoxide. Brain cells die. One by one by one by one… This really is a never ending process…