Friday, November 15, 2013


The moon carries a hazy appearance tonight, serving as a backdrop for my twisted delight.  A couple vicodin might get me high, a useless plight, my life flickering like a wax candle dripping in the wind.  I'm mere inches from venturing over the edge, even though something's been telling me "it's an inevitable end."  There's no room for rational thought when it comes to emotional matters deeply inhabited, they tend not to make any sense.  I write rhymes with no reason and my secrets are written in between the lines if you can read them.  So this is a eulogy, proof of a new chapter exclusive to me and my ill habits.  This time I avoid catastrophic disaster, dreams combined like galaxies colliding, a poetic merging of star dusted souls.  No one knows, not even me.


  1. The truth is, our destructive habits actually feel good (with the exception of the aftermath). It's a hard truth to accept, that when you give up a "bad habit" you give up something that soothes your very soul... we give them up to save the suffering of the aftermath, because in the long run the pleasure we find in self destructive leads to a greater suffering that's not worth giving in to.

    1. I've got a few habits I wouldn't necessarily call bad. Sometimes they're things I may want to hang onto, but the aftermath, as you say, is usually a wake up call. But I have to say my greatest learning has come from strife, but I'm smart enough to know that I don't always have to cut myself to know the knife is sharp. Haha That probably doesn't even make any sense.

  2. dudeeee been meaning to reply to your posts on my blog (dreamscanbeseen) took me awhile, but here I am! I lovee your shit, it definitely has the same feel as my writing and I can feel you pouring your heart into these words or whatever they are. thanks for sharing and thanks for following my page. add me on fb! jenna snow bearger :) much lovee

  3. She sure likes the letter E. Good job on skipping the drugs.