(no subject)

[tenderfoot]

"Kill the day and fill me, break my past renew me
Lift up my head, I'm weary
Strip my thoughts and I'll...

Kill this day, now fill me

Bleed out my wounds, Bleed out my wounds
And break free to shed cocoons
My second taste of you is the end
All I need to breathe anew"
-Andrew Schwabb

I saw some new pictures today.
I enjoyed the trees but
I didn't enjoy you.
You looked too happy.
Too bright. Too well dressed.
In my sick brain I was
hoping to revel in your
misery. You sounded crushed.
I was crushed but I was
secretly happy that you
were crushed as well.
Two months later
your life is back on track
and I'm beginning to think
mine is at the bottom of
a bottle. Or the mountain
we loved. Or the oily smell
of a familiar friend. Yet
you're hoping the best for me.
Somewhere you found faith to
pray for me. If I am to
believe you. Which I do.
And I'm going through old
pages and worm-eaten bookmarks
looking for the easy, the casual,
the ones I missed. the word
squalor seeps into my head.
Registers with a stench.
Cowardly follows closely.
I so desperately want to hate
you. I am desperate for
something I have in abundance.