Confessions of A Man Like Me

I am thankful for the digital word only For I am no longer able to speak your name. I may, at the very least, write it And hear it spoken in my mind.

Each beautiful thing broke me of the bliss that my forgetfulness had brought.

People worry drugs will kill you But I've got to say Even though they have nearly killed me once Drugs have saved my life

The thing I fear most today. The thing that made me happiest yesterday. I wonder. What will I fear tomorrow.

Everything I have done. All the great I have created. All the great I have destroyed. I have done it for you.

The weakness I have without parallels with strength you gave as we grew.

This madness that I have fallen into while trying to escape is my livelihood. In my mania there is a world with answers gone unquestioned. "Two do dazzling days that do daze my daisy." This is not the place that I belong to. That place is gone. This is not the only place that I can live. This is the only place I have not already died. "You know that shit will kill you right?" He asks me. "I'm counting on it." "How can you do that and not be ashamed of yourself?" She asks. "I am already ashamed of myself. I might as well have the drugs too." I called you Sweet-Bee. 🐝

And just like that, you're back in my thoughts. Please leave me to poison myself in peace. Please.

My old co-worker is a cynic, not unlike myself. She's in her 70's and has seen more of the world and of people than I ever will. One day, shortly after the loss of my love, she told me these words (roughly): "Don't worry, you'll be dead soon." Dark and comical but true.

The parts of myself that I like best are the parts that I've made up. This makes me either a flawed human or an excellent craftsman.

Always wanted Needed But never deserved.

I miss the days when “I love you” meant something more then “I love that when I’m with you I don’t think about how much I miss her.”

Then I can stop having to think of clever shit to say.

Fuck me.