another year. another season of our lives completed. we're halfway there. the epiphany of my life. i'd call it a slump. i do what's expected of me because i don't know how to do anything else.
traintracks at night are a dangerous place to be, but we're blinded by the sun in the day. besides, what's a few shots of adrenalin among friends? quit crying your eyes out, and baby come on. let's slit our wrists and burn down something beautiful. poetry can't fit me into a rhyme scheme. science calls me inconclusive. math says i don't add up. "it's called bleeding so you know you're alive and unloved." well isnt that fucking great.
what if i decide that ignorance is bliss? it's not like i know anything about the afterlife. what if you got bored of living? the predictable intake of air, the blood in your ears. your mouth. your eyes. everywhere. blood is under everything, and you know it.
the scary thing is, blood is actually clear. ever wonder why burn patients bleed to death? that's why. blood plasma. like you're crying out of every pore. the p[s]alm reader points out my short lifeline. "you're either a hero or a coward, and i'm not liking your chances". what's the point of keeping a puzzle piece around if it doesn't fit into any puzzles?
so, which is it?
well, the comeback kid died anyways, so who really gives a shit?
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