I've quit drinking and stopped talking to all my friends

I don't know why or what for, if these roads went in one direction, then why am I haunting the opposite lanes.

Depression and insomnia are a great mix like the liquor burning in the pit of my stomach

These thoughts spill and spill until I have no more attachment to anything I want or need to write

I'll put on a few records, and sing along to words I've sung a thousand times before

When the urge comes to convey my thoughts to those that I need to know, I'll blank it out and hide it on an empty page full of anonymous comments and ridiculed overcoats

Even then I over complicate my words and manipulate the meaning

Becoming pretentious was something I learned over time, it was vital at papering the cracks of how little I really know or probably ever will

If I take something from the next three years, it's probably that the last five years have been the best of my life

While I'm sad right now, I'll be happy tomorrow

While the sky is nice and blue as I speak just now, I'm sure tomorrow, I'll have the same conversation about the greyness and clouds overcasting my mind.

Even when I squint my eyes to tell the time, nothing has passed, maybe a few days and a few more birthdays

I wont even buy cards or wish people farewell, because sometimes its hard enough knowing we go to the same places or waste the the day speaking to the same friends

As the melodies begin to make me weak at the knees, I kneel over and cover my eyes. Please don't say anything that might hurt, I've got a dirty soul and black lungs

A chimney of doubt, and a sootful of griming regrets

Probably the most romantic words I'll ever string together, but in the context of my life, it was never really needed

Nobody will read this, and nobody will care

A passing eye will surrender and attach themselves to phrases, chases, and pastures of life

I envy them, but when I was given this pen, I was given intent.