A slow burn down my throat
Toxins warming my chest
Darkness
Music
Two eyes melting into the half-life of whatever went down the hatch
The entire face of the night wears a droopy demon, angry against the grain of the medicine
An red-hot blade sears into the leftover muscle used to drive it in
Nodding a lazy head along to whatever shuffles on the speaker
Watching the clock in anticipation for the rest to kick in
Losing control of limbs, just as planned
Pulsing pain everywhere
It all can't be felt in your head if you dig it into your skin, your muscles, your veins.
Over and over and over and over
back and forth and back and forth
then the strange rapture of bleeding out
Relief...
Nothing.
Black.
Silence.
Oblivion.
Solice.
Death.
A new year's eve
Driving at night with the windows down and heater on, it's 4 degrees out. I'd gotten better and better at driving with the weight of nicotine in my lip. I remembered I didn't have a curfew, and that going to bed on time hinged on having to wake up for something but I don't have anything to wake up for.
I don't have anything to wake up for.
So I'll sleep until 4 and wake to texts I don't want to read or reply to.
My hands tremor at how much I'd rather be fucked up on something.
Just to forget for another moment.
Forget I have a body.
Forget that it's winter.
Forget the grip of vice.
Forget the looming pressure of expectation.
Forget that I'm living in a van not by choice anymore.
Help me forget for a while.
Forget I have a body.
Forget that it's winter.
Forget the grip of vice.
Forget the looming pressure of expectation.
Forget that I'm living in a van not by choice anymore.
Help me forget for a while.
I look around me and see absolute suffering.
My family and friends suffering absolutely.
I've watched my father become an old man.
Someday I'll see my mother become an old maid.
In this juxtaposition in life, I'm found wanting someone that has been so toxic to me.
Now I'm drifting away...
In this existential prison, I see "god will give me justice" traced over in a ritual insanity.
That's what I am now, a prisoner to my own mortality.
Reminded that nothing will go away unless you're fucked up or dead.
Drifting away...
New years eve I'll spend alone, watching my journey come to an end by the bottom of whatever glass I wash away my pain with.
Cheers.
Reminded that nothing will go away unless you're fucked up or dead.
Drifting away...
New years eve I'll spend alone, watching my journey come to an end by the bottom of whatever glass I wash away my pain with.
Cheers.
Vice Grip.
A slum of a home I've built.
Remembering that what awaits me is the pt. 2 of my isolation.
Remembering that what's inside of me is angry.
A feeling I threw into my left arm which I can only vaguely recall.
Something is tired inside of me and wishes to sleep.
My heart is bruised and beaten at how many times you've dropped it.
At how many times I've dropped it.
I'm cheap.
Love was in Pandora's box.
To which when opened unleashed exactly what I knew to be inside: Mistrust
I've lost my mind to a vice grip.
I'm certain it'll kill me one way or another, a time in short order.
Van-Lagged
I have regularly been awake till 5 am every night since coming home. It's like having altitude sickness, the way I can't sleep in a regular bed. My body is used to 5 degrees. I haven't much seen the sun in a long while. To some extent, this vacation is exhausting. I've come home to see people who won't make time for me. I want to be back in the cold, so much so that I'm considering not signing a housing contract for the winter.
Tomorrow I'm going to leave cell service, somewhere I'll need to dig out of to leave. Somewhere nobody could reach me, even if they tried, however unlikely. I'm going to sit on my chair outside the van and let the cold reach my bones the way I've come to know all too well. I'll cuss at my predicament in the cold and fall asleep at a decent time. I'll see my breath curl above me and I'll shrink to conserve my heat.
I've become van-lagged. I've raised my expectations of others..... I expect them to have missed me to the same extent that I've missed them--spending so many hours talking to myself. We've lived in separate worlds where they're trained to expect conversation every time they round a corner. So when I ask for an hour of their time I watch their eyes dart for excuses, often shown rather only by their "read receipt" by text.
This is the second break I've come home and wanted again to be alone and braving the ice in the van. I have been institutionalized by this life I chose. These people don't understand what it means to have company, always being so quick to excuse themselves with priorities. As self-obsessed as this will seem-- they are all taking me for granted, and tomorrow will take me back into the cold.
Sincerely,
The one who wouldn't ever let you down.
.
Tomorrow I'm going to leave cell service, somewhere I'll need to dig out of to leave. Somewhere nobody could reach me, even if they tried, however unlikely. I'm going to sit on my chair outside the van and let the cold reach my bones the way I've come to know all too well. I'll cuss at my predicament in the cold and fall asleep at a decent time. I'll see my breath curl above me and I'll shrink to conserve my heat.
I've become van-lagged. I've raised my expectations of others..... I expect them to have missed me to the same extent that I've missed them--spending so many hours talking to myself. We've lived in separate worlds where they're trained to expect conversation every time they round a corner. So when I ask for an hour of their time I watch their eyes dart for excuses, often shown rather only by their "read receipt" by text.
This is the second break I've come home and wanted again to be alone and braving the ice in the van. I have been institutionalized by this life I chose. These people don't understand what it means to have company, always being so quick to excuse themselves with priorities. As self-obsessed as this will seem-- they are all taking me for granted, and tomorrow will take me back into the cold.
Sincerely,
The one who wouldn't ever let you down.
.
All's i'm sayin
All's i'm sayin is I wish I could speak to someone.
Hear what they're feeling, and reciprocate.
All's i'm sayin is it's awful cold out, and awful warm by a fire.
All's i'm sayin is it's even dead cold by this fire when I think of burying my head into your embrace.
My mind is stuck in a dimly lit, fire smelling, stew brewing, folk humming, eye tiring, sock wearing, love making, chest sinking, wooden cabin with my dearest sweetheart--snowed in neck-deep on a perpetual winter night.
All's i'm sayin is I wish that was all I had.
All's i'm sayin is that I now understand what it means to be cozy and warm, and I know what it means to wake up in a meat locker.
All's i'm sayin is I know what I need to be cozy and warm . .... ...
Shitting at the levy
Shittin’ in a gas station.
I had to hustle to get there.
Run-limping through a dark subarctic parking lot being careful enough not to “number two” myself on the way.
My life is weird.
Now I’m starin’ at my jeans hugging my ankles with moccasins on under the dull white lights of my throne.
Listening to a song I haven’t heard for three years.
I know I haven’t heard this song for three years because I remember exactly where I was when I stumbled upon it during this epic stool purge.
I was sitting square in the leather couch at 4625 W with the computer on my lap.
Second semester of Senior Year January 2016.... thinking of a blog title for creative writing.
It’s 33 degrees out and the van was cozy.... but I’m dropping a seismic deuce wishing I was there.
And it is absolutely insane....
I am taking a shit here in this gas station because I met a girl named Addie way back when.
We talked about our blogs in guitar class and I fell in love for the first time.
This pensive discharge has my mind thinking about how destiny brought me here in the first place.
Dominoe..... Dominoe.... Dominoe....
I chased a girl named Adeline to a school I had no business going to. I fell into life going back and forth between stories that brought me all the way back here.... at a 7/11.... legs now numb from sitting here so long.... but it just has me thinking.
How I named a blog after a song, fell in love for the first time over exchanging writings, and finding the rest to be history.
The present moment seems surreal.
Rediscovering a song that was a piece of a complicated puzzle that brought me here... suffering in a gas station.
That is all.
Yours truly,
Fool’s Gold
So long...
Slowing down now.
The music will keep me at tempo.
The air stings with cold.
The wood walls dark for all but a candle or two.
The music will die off.
My heartbeat will grow heavy.
The fireplace kept up still...
So as to gently cradle me asleep, into the promise of missing all tomorrows.
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