synfull

7/31/05

exlusive suicide journal flow to get to that elusive place that i don't like to go
my bike is broken but the path is clear and i've never liked math but somehow the numbers are coming to me one by one as the numbness of yesterday's weed smoke leaves me
one THC fleeing fat cell at a time
it's a hell of a mind that stays blind in doubt even when the depression and life stressing are supposedly ironed out
my mouth opens but broken words dribble
barely audible
my skin aches for the touch of someone
my eyes sometimes foggy with the thin layer of something doctor prescribed and i
always hide behind a simple, stoic smile while a
scream should surely happen now and then just to
clear out the everything
i want to sing and whisper but its all monotone or handwritten pen notes to myself about what should be
and what is not and what has been will be tucked away for another time and fuck today if i have to wait in line to be what i want to be because
i will not defer until tomorrow again
pain and frown co-exist with a twist of manic realness
i feel this