if i wash away the next time it rains, will you swim out to find me? i feel my fingers slipping already on the slimy rocks that line the side of the road. i know you miss me now. if i could say the same i wouldn't be writing this here, alone. i could talk of things that don't matter as though they do. and we could laugh about things that aren't funny as though they are. i could sleep without listening for the sound of my heartbeat. or wondering what that pain is. noises. strange lights. oceanic thoughts that drown my soul. pulling down in swirls of guilt and pride to the bottom of its angry floor.

if i could say the same i wouldn't be writing this here, alone. but i'm afraid my feelings have gone south for this winter. why i continue to thoughtlessly drudge through this dirty brown snow every day is a question not yet asked or answered. partly because i know the answer, and partly because i wish i didn't, the question will remain unborn. i'm not making sense these days. not making much of anything really. love. time. my bed. things count. up stories. enough money. music. deals. myself.

prioritize. think. get. over. it. i swear i'm drowning and i don't know what to do anymore. something's got to break. something. the dam. my pride. my will. the dishes.

my skin is gray. my mind is gray. my soul is gray. the world is monochromatic now. like a painter going blind. forgetting blue and red and magenta. forgetting life. forgetting to breathe. forgetting the silky liquid colors seeping between the tiny bumps of the canvas. forgetting himself. forgetting myself.

i can't be fixed unless i am broken.

current music: denison witmer