i just want to die.


why do i keep doing this??

new

it's a night i know. i'm familiar with the air: hinting of mountain tops that i pull in through my own warmth. i savour what is imperative.

i'm compelled to consider my grandmother's field of tomato plants and newly cut grass. trees dancing with lightning bugs and a bowl of v8 straight from the can. i'm not supposed to drip water outside of the sink and my pop pop shows us ice cubes that fell from the sky.

where does this take me from here? it's never away.. because i'm never entirely departed from these patches of lampshades and sheets smelling of old books.

i am stumbling across touching parallels: time travel that exists only in my mind.

but where does that leave me? an epiphany while sitting at a kitchen table, all my belongings in two black plastic bags, like two morbid masses of elbows and knees.

this night is a summer night, where i leave nothing behind unless i exhale.

my truth.

i'm quite sure i didn't mean anything to him.



i'm not sure what that means to me..

i hate this.



i don't know what i expect. i just know i hate that i'm not trying to try.


i hate that my life is nothing. that i've failed without attempting anything. i used him as an excuse to do nothing because he was enough.. and now i've let that go..


and i have nothing.