“I only have a clear mind at 3AM, when the worlds asleep, and as I’m waiting on those pills to take me away, the last rational thoughts in my brain just leave me wondering what I’m still doing here.”

Another rainy day, another chance to wash away the filth sticking to my skin from weeks without caring about who I am becoming. It’s a fall in slow motion, a subtle slip that turns into a never ending slideshow of evenings spent worshipping the bottom of a bottle, any bottle I can find. But it’s … Continue reading “I only have a clear mind at 3AM, when the worlds asleep, and as I’m waiting on those pills to take me away, the last rational thoughts in my brain just leave me wondering what I’m still doing here.”

I have waited long enough, so please let me come home. Let me feel that warm embrace and call me to the pyre.

Counting the years through Summers alone, But I can’t take back those Winter’s of yours Those icy, blue days, I’m begging to change, Cause I know I’ll never call you home again. What am I after? What do I need? What will help to set me free? My memories linger, through bottles and rage And … Continue reading I have waited long enough, so please let me come home. Let me feel that warm embrace and call me to the pyre.

I think my subconscious is trying to force my throat shut so I can’t keep downing these pills like fucking skittles. Haha, jokes on me, I’ve spent my entire life forcing bullshit out of my mouth, so forcing some more shit back down? It’s easy as 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, … Continue reading It’s never as bad as I think it is, until I realize every bottle in my cabinet is empty, and all I can do is wait and see if I’m going to wake up and find tomorrow, or never wake up again.

Someday you’ll come to understand how I feel. You’ll wake up, and before you even get the chance to roll out of bed, an intense self-loathing will be simmering right beneath your skin. You won’t be able to make sense of it, and with every passing second the pressure of being alive will grind your … Continue reading “Raking away at already red wrists, as if self inflicted scars are the latest fashion trend, I’m racing towards another round of awkward conversations about an imaginary cat, a pair of clumsy feet, and a person who stopped caring a long time ago.”