six kinds of boring.

[things_to_find]

i have a fifth of whiskey in my lap and a fifth of vodka in my hand.
the plan goes like this: get myself trashed beyond the ability to think.
but first comes art.
no drinking till atleast 10...
i am on my way out the door to snag me some supplies.
then i am going to write about hell and damnation.
in the end i am going to take something innoccent and pure and i am gonna warp it and twist it and when i am done well... you will just have to find out for yourself.

i want to say that i dont care anymore that shit has gone numb and all things are lost in the distance. just memories. but this has been a really shitty week. seriously bad. i would say that stuff went down hill really badly this week. i need to have a conversation that i am dreading. i am terrified. but tonight i am channeling this vile sickness in my lungs, channeling that panic that sets in when my heart starts beating too fast for me to breath and how my skin crawls and the shit at work and my sense of betrayal and my self loathing and disgust. i tried venting to someone in a bar but that didnt work. i dont think they wanted to talk.

i want to disappear. i want to riffle thru my things fill a bag and run. the sad thing is i wont beacuse i know that no matter where i run no one else is going to be anymore honest...
but tonight is for art and creations not running.