it's complicated

my heart is
weak, with
beats
today, skipping...
hopscotching
inside it's cage,
the weathered and
overworked arteries
straining against
the will to rest;
head so full of
a month's time, here
now dizzying and
at capacity...
it screams i'm
sorry, but
does no good
in its ever binding
silent ways.
repeat after me:
i will get through
i will get through
i will get through,
i just simply
have to, push
on and
let myself down
piece by
piece by the pieces
already on the
ground.

i drank again, last night, and drank and drank and drank... hoping that i would get a phone call, that i was needed, that whiskey may fill this incessant abyss that has been lingering inside me since i can remember. but that's just it... the whiskey makes me forget and forget and forget and allows me to humor the enemies i harbor inside. namely - me.

i am my own worst destructor, and i know it. i knew this since i was young, that i am the only one who has held me back and hurt me, that the proverbial finger is always pointed in my direction. but how do you destroy the destroyer if it's you? doesn't that defeat the point of being here?

is my destructive lifestyle the only thing that's keeping me around? there's a cyclical conversation. think about it for awhile, and then you just may understand the beginning of my day, every day, for the last twenty six years.

k.