When you stand up from a battle, the battle of life, and you brush the dirt off your face, and pop the top off your champagne, what do you have to show for it?  Is it really enough just to be alive, when all you have are the bruises, the scars, the slices, and the hurt from what has happened in the past?  Can you really be triumphant to have sludged through the muck and dirt and blood and come out worse than you went in?  We look at our lives, and all the hardknock shit we ahve gone through, and then we are proud that we made it, that we gusted the winds, when really all we did was set sail for the next catastrophe.

Life is a series of unfortunate events, and we sludge through them waiting for the light at the end of the tunnel, when I have to stop and wonder if there ever is?  It seems to me the more I fight my battles, the weaker I am prepared for the next.  The less gusto I have in me to fight.  I’m very much in love with the prospect of eventually having something better, but I simply don’t see it coming.  Will power is something that as of late, I lack.  I simply don’t see the point on continuing on this dirtroad with no shoes on, slicing myself on the rocks, and seeing nothing but a dead end ahead.  A plot of dirt, and a headstone.

Why is it such a struggle?

I just want to be free…

of these chains that are cutting at my ankle
gnawing at my wrist
the barbed wire enclosing my heart
the poison clogging my nostrils
and these big strong hands around my neck
excuse me while i go puke up
the leftovers of last night
when you made me scream
in agony
it’s hard to read when someone’s heart
is charred by the embittering fires
and breaking off onto the page
and you want to hold her, wipe the tears
but your left mouth agape
at what comes from the tips of your fingers
turn away for the sake of morphing into a pillar of salt
you don’t have to watch as I lament
on the aspects of that which makes me me.
I’m as toxic as you are
replaying the episodes that stabbed us
with a previously bloodied sword
alas your white horse
is a little to late
strip your armor
and we can grow cold amongst the ashes
together.