HELP, I woke up.
                           Again.

Every day it's more disappointing to do.

Pessimism and a general
lack
of


motivation

               for breakfast, then on to
the fun stuff:


          self-DOUBT
                  self-LOATHING
   ­       self-ABSORPTION
           SELFFULFILLINGPROPHECIES

and i can't change. or i won't.
     ¿and is there any difference or hope?

sometimes i think i think too quickly
or not at all. i feel sticky.
please do not call me, though it's tempting.
i'm a weakling and empty.
i'm entirely, undeniably irredeemable
so don't get comfortable
with the thought
that i might give you anything at all.

i'm restless. it inhibits peaceful sleeping
i'm such a ***, only weeping
instead of doing something useful. being truthful,
nothing i do feels fruitful.
i'm entirely, undeniably irredeemable
so don't get comfortable
with the thought
that i might give you anything at all.

Mirrors are not the worst, but I sure don't like them, though I like them more than what they show me.

I look into one,
afraid and armed only with
determined resignation.
I'm finally feeling old, and it's a lonely thing.
I'm tired of outliving friends. I'm tired of losing.

So much time I've wasted. So much pain I've caused. My sore back is not the only reason I slump.
I ignore my own advice, though I think it's good advice.

My heart is rough and there appears no fair way to stay on course. I disguise my overuse of metaphors and think myself clever.

But I'm still breathing and
my family loves me.

Don't despair
just because your dreams are dead stars.
Folks care,
and some have been where you are.
It's not fair,
but that's life, my friend.
You share
your feelings on a website.
You're bare,
but the words aren't coming out right.
Somewhere
joy will find you in the end.

Take a breath,
shake it out.
Strife, then death;
life is doubt.
Feel your heart.
Steel your heart.

You stare,
but it's confusing, all this new art.
Nowhere
feels safer than your own dark.
Unaware
of all this love I try to send.
Light is there
even when you're falling apart.
Truth and dare
is life as lived from the heart.
But beware:
unfettered hearts are hard to bend.

We're fine, really.
But there is a reason to how our
belongings are all laid out once
we've gone to bed.

I'm still here,
I think.
Therefore, I am
free to point out that punctuation is everything.
There is no guarantee of freedom of thought
when you've surrendered
your desire
to
think
at
all.

Words stream meaningless
void of sense
perfect in their time

A concerted effort
full of cliches

Fists full of rain.
Eye roll