A lack of breath
Is common hereafter.
As I become apathetic
When I write finding nothing
of what I used to.
But obviously with all my writings
Something brings me here.
To vent and displace emotion on a platter.
Alone and alone I dwindle
Circling arm in arm with disaster
Never finding what I'm after.
Is it true your arms of liberty?
That this is divine and that is destruction?
To act right separates me from my own parts.
Dividing self into a hollow case.
To gamble pries my nerves to the surface
Making razors to lips and affectionate trysts
My skin and heart know this.
I ask myself things of grave importance when I'm drunk. Its annoying because I feel things make more sense when I'm inebriated. Anxiety seems to take me over where I need to be to function properly.
But more importantly I feel lonely with out love.
I'll go to sleep thinking of you.