( ) and " "

I am considering what to do here.

I sometimes get nauseous about this whole thing
about these words being so immortal somewhere.

My letters to the editor.

I really only write in this to talk to you.

Even though we will probably never "talk" again
at least not in the conventional sense of the term.
It has always just been a way to tell someone...anyone
that I don't and never will feel quite "normal." (at least in the conventional sense of the term)

However I feel that this is all becoming:
What I Got Addicted To On My Summer Vacation.

I have been doing drugs.
In a middle class white-boy way but nonetheless.
It has been enough to concern me and I feel like it is
tainting any sort of artistic merit that this whole thing
initially
possessed.

I read you every day.
I respect what it has become and
your writing has gotten exponentially
"better."
I laugh at how I believe that you and I may be
in similar
fields.

I think that if I said things such as
SEO and
PageRank
you might nod in
solidarity.

Thank you for listening all this time.
When I came back from New York I
was pretty shattered.
It really did help to know that
someone saw me.
That even though I was probably being superbly
dramatic
by other individual's standards
someone saw it and may have wished me
well.

I go in and out of literary consciousness on here.

The truth is that
I am getting older.
I have stopped talking to most people,
I try my hardest but I get overwhelmed and
self-destruct.
I am a born leader but I was born with so much
fear.
I see where I have done wrong and
why I did it.
I see where I have done right and
try to repeat it.
I am standing out because I can't blend in.
My potential frightens me. (Narcissism.)
But I can't keep hiding.
I can't keep holding everyone else to impossible standards when
I don't impose them on
myself.

I often wish that
you would see what I have become
but who I was is such a darkness
and it would merely kill the
light.

Maybe one day you'll hear of me.
Maybe one day they all will.

Until then,
I will be the crack
underneath
the
door.

After four months of black
and dark
I am starting to see a light.

I have battled terrifying ghosts
and demons.
Pain does not begin to describe what
I've faced.

We are always
-always
-always
just this side of
madness.

If it weren't for a good set of
parents I
would not be alive to tell
this tale.

No matter how tempting,

never give up.

One day at a
time.

We set fire to our futures
And throw our children to flame.
Death is our comfort
And
Friend.

Hi Mom

You know,
one gets to thinking
when you haven't showered for going on three solids and
you are craning your neck in the rearview
trying to dryshave the whiskers you were too fucked up to see that morning
and its so hot that the dogs all piss vapors
and you swear that every person out there would shit their brains
if the bottom fell out
and you swore you wouldn't curse but every aspect of shit is completely fucked
and your officemate can kiss your ass because
you used to be able to afford what he is eating
but no thanks to your cock and people who literally measure their moments in cock
you have ended up a shithole under a fuckbomb.

Enjoy your Friday.