i lost my voice drinking liquor and saying i’m sorry.

I swept a storm of fury through the slit of a sleeve in the hopes that the tantrum could break your ears into submission for my voice and my voice only.

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the adolescent bickering within my head

disfigured remains of a pointless mosaic
shattered onto the floor.
it distorts my ego
with each step i take.
the accomplice to the murder
that occurs each morning i awake.
but they are both just henchmen,
to the air i intake;
as the very same air that circulates through me,
causes the very same pain
that suffocates me.

 

vacation

I will feel successful when I know I am truly living,
not taking each day for granted on a Soma vacation.
Let the failures surround me until the moment comes,
when I have caught the reasons why I run.