I learned my morals from the bottom of bottles and the backs of library books I never checked out

The city taught me how to lie with a straight face and a shaking hand said if you’re gonna starve, kid at least do it loudly

I made friends with the ghosts under highway overpasses they smell like wet cardboard and unfinished apologies They all swear tomorrow’s different but tomorrow keeps ducking our calls

I’m not proud of who I’ve been but I’m suspicious of people who are They’ve never loved a mistake so hard it tried to kill them

I sing songs that don’t fix anything for people who don’t want fixing we trade cigarettes like confessions burning both down to the filter and pretending that’s closure

If hope is a muscle mine’s been torn and taped together with bad decisions and worse ideas still, it twitches sometimes usually when the cops drive by or someone laughs like they mean it

I don’t believe in clean endings I believe in surviving with enough honesty left to admit you’re still scared

Sometimes there’s inspiration in my coffee cup swirling like the cream I pour in I used to drink it as black as black can be But as I slowly grow older it bites back with heart burn theories

Sometimes there’s a story in the steam rising off so hot it burns my hands as I sip Sitting at my kitchen island typing on a keyboard that doesn’t agree with anything I do anymore

And sometimes, it just stares at me with judging eyes hidden in the handle Telling me that no one cares and all the work I’m doing is for not I’m just a joke on a web page A sympathy click so the misery poet doesn’t feel bad With no style to call his own

I fill it cup or after cup after cup until I start to tremor from the caffeine and I try to strum my guitar looking for inspirations to write more whiny garbage about that girl who stole my heart but I end up just feeling sick stepping on the porch for a cigarette and

Sometimes I find inspiration in the curling of the smoke as in inhale and exhale my suicide pacts staring at the blank page on my phone it mocks me and shocks me and sometimes this even works

Someday, there’s nothing and I waste away under the covers of my bed there’s a million words twisting around but not one of them makes any sense within my head and so I stare up at the ceiling as sitcoms from the nineties laughs become the only thing to comfort me

Today’s message talks about why we hold on to the people and things we hold on to and when we will be able to let go and move forward. Enjoy!

Many Blessings,

Follow the Raven:   Be sure to check out my Facebook Page for more videos, Spirit messages and free readings even!