blank slate-- not startling.
it fits me so, i breathe it in.
a cigarette burns itself
out
between my pointer and index fingers.
i sit here
welcoming
any thoughts i can recollect
from my memory.
i treasure them.
i wish so bad
to just go back to them.
i dont feel pain now--
or anything.
let someone else pick up the tab..
its climbing high..
and im just running low.
an empty seat im leaving you.
the lone bar stool dressed in black.
battered & worn
chipped & cracked
im going home to prove it to myself.
give it awhile and
i'll just go back.
Author notes
i dont know. im kind of the barstool in this piece. im at rock bottom right now. but what i do has got ahold on me, and i dont think anything is going to stop it now.
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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This is seriously wonderful. I was looking for a good read and this piece is something I feel one can relate to.
we all feel battered and broken, tattered and torn, weary.
but the feelings don't last forever. -
i love this. i just sat in my room and had a cigarette i didn't even want to smoke.. so for the most part i forced myself into it, out of habit. i was going to write something similar to this, but then i read it.. i just connect to it. i'm the barstool too. rock bottom, no where to go, no fucking idea what i want to do. i just take things that come, cherish them, then let go. it's a heartless repent for absolutely no reason but desperation. great job. i love this.
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