I love the feeling
when you're not TOO drunk
but jsut drunk enough
where everything feels like a movie
and you're laughing hysterically
at things that shouldn't be that funny
and you're in a car
that's driving too fast
and your life isn't yours
(thank "god")
so you can breathe for once
and sigh in relief
and just let go.

But it seems like
substances are the only thing
that can make me happy these days
I wonder what that's all about
and what will happen
tomorrow morning
when I have to wake up?
I hope that I don't have to find out.

I've polished off my secret stash of pills
I've drank all of the alcohol in the house
Now all I have left
is to actually feel.

****.

Something happened
that night
when you kissed me
in the bed that
you share with your wife.

Something wrong
and forbidden
but almost forgotten
as it's been years
since I've gotten butterflies.

But I quickly grabbed
the sharpest knife
sliced open my chest
and grounded each of
those little ******* to ash.

And I left their remains
right there
on the pillow
in the bed that
you share with your wife.

I haven't been writing lately
and I was curious as to why
turns out I haven't been feeling
a single thing

Numb as numb can be
and I can't decide if I prefer
this nothingness
or if I'd rather still be sad.

and I can't figure out
if I'm happy to be alive
or if I'd rather close my eyes
and  never wake up

You can ask me when I'm dead.

I can't forgive myself.
I can't even like myself.

I can't look in the mirror
without wanting to shatter my reflection
into a million pieces
and use the broken glass
to draw a thick line
straight down my wrist

Not enough to die
(well, maybe.)
Just enough to feel alive.

And everyone says I need to give myself a break.
But I can't
because I'm the one human being
that I just can't seem to love.
(and nobody else can seem to, either)

Last night I drank a bottle of wine
broke down and cried
about everything
that's not going right
in my life.

Worst of all is how alone I feel
every waking moment
every breath
every second I'm alive.

8 days into the new year and I have already broken my resolution.

After 4 shots and 3 whiskey and cokes
God only knows what all went down.
I wake up in a daze
pick my clothes up off the floor
and curse myself out loud.

The car ride home lasted a life time.
I closed my eyes hoping that it wasn't real
that when I opened them again I'd be in my bed
alone.

Turned the shower on as hot as it gets
tried to burn off the shame
tried to scrub off the guilt
but no matter how scalding the water was,
nothing could wash away the pain.

Spent hours in my bed
not moving
because if I moved
it would mean I exist
and I don't want to.
Not anymore.

Nothing has ever made me
hate myself more.
8 days into the new year and I have already broken my resolution.

*8 days into the new year and I have already broken.