eyes closing looking at the ceiling
I look up at the cloud painted ceiling of my bedroom. Framed in blackened walls, I have only one thought. Am I going to be make it, just make it? I've been trying to understand myself. Am I the problem with relationships that I have? Each 16 ounce beer washes a thought away. I need to make a break from my mind. I should get away from myself; but how do you do that? I want to fall in love like a song. Perhaps loneliness isn't all that bad. The slow blink of the downtrodden washes away discontent. I'm out.