the teddy bear named clarence

But you go back
and you go back
and you go back.


and this time I'm spending all my time crouched over the toilet bowl pushing up my wendy's and spaghetti.

for what?


a type of numb I can't get anywhere else. a type of nothing-ness. an inbetween of living and not.
a draft, warm, itchy place.

i feel sick but i feel like i'm sitting on a cloud. weird how you could feel so good and so bad at the same time. weird how every word i write sounds to myself like bull shit. it should sound like bull shit to my reader. but who are my readers? i don't think i have any. good thing because i wouldn't want anyone i know reading this. i don't even capitalize. quitting is hard....especially when you are trying to quit something that's worse that the thing you need to quit now. if i hadn't stopped the first thing i wouldn't have started the second...again.



but i go back
and i go back
and i go back


and i'm no good. i'm just no good.

and i don't need to talk in the third person anymore to hide that i'm talking about myself.

There are 4 types of drugs are in my system right now.


Almost hitting rock bottom again,

but this time I can't escape to Maine.


I can't tell if I'm living more? or living less.

stay solid.

You wanted to run fast from starch less streets
to the trees.
But your story dragged and your shoes had holes so you walked soft
cause you needed to know if sublime was as bright as it seemed.
Daddy told you your habits ran too deep and you needed to get clean.
But this place didn't have what you needed and daddy didn't have the same props he once did.
Hush, don’t worry. I’ve got hope caught in the flame of my footprints.

You wanted to think the second try would hold tight.
But you go back and you go back and you go back.
You couldn't get your fingerprints to wipe clean
but you prayed three times for mercy.
You wanted to stretch your legs to stretch your veins--thin your blood to travel to the hills.
This time you kept where time slid slow and the ground blacked the soles of your feet.
The girl's no good.
The girl's just no good but she’s come a long way to call herself fine.
You wanted to think you'd found the place where no one knew
your name and the sky always breathed sweet.
You wanted to stay solid. You wanted to stay clean.

lack

I have created expectations for myself. I can't write anything I find interesting because I've set the bar too high. I want to write like the people I like to read but I lack the imagination. Someday, sometime, I'll write something for you to read...hopefully.