I don’t know where to go from here. Hell, I’m not even sure where I’ve been. The words chase me and I always break, never bend. My soul knows no secrets. My heart only knows shame. Exhaustion is the only flavor I can find in this lonesome home. The bottles rattle, almost empty of my life’s game. The pills are bitter, but I cannot get better if I don’t find a way to keep them down.
The expectations are longer than the shadows of my hopes in a dressing gown. I pray for respite, but the fever makes me remember I’m not even religious. I fold the corners of my dreams, marking the good parts although I will never return. I chase the ashes into the dusk, kissing the future with the passion of my past. I don’t know where to go from here. But Hell, I hope it is better than where I’ve been.