If I'm being honest
which does not come naturally for the wasted
I miss my late night compatriots.

There is something so inviting about the void.

It's not easy on the outside.
It's so warm in oblivion and
out here you have to constantly remind yourself
that you're going to be ok
even though you have no idea
what in the world you are doing
and it could all fall apart at any moment
and you could always give up and
go back to garbage
walking the land drunk and
muttering to yourself.

All these rose colored memories
weigh black on your ribs
as these average everydays are eternally
the monotony of
same.

And you never have anywhere to put it.
I may try to give it to you
and you may try to give it to me
but it is all entirely our own
and we sleep uneasily because of some perceived
existing or impending
misery.

Sober, you remember what it feels like to lose
and peek inside of coffins,
that life is eventually
lifeless
and you struggle to leave behind something meaningful
while at the same time
succeeding
and your true idea of success looks a lot different
than you probably imagined
and you would live alone, naked, and
sick of it all
but you can't bear the thought of never hearing another
heart







beat.






Living to die
a pile of bones on a barstool
or first class accomodations
does it even matter which?

Dead in tatters or tiaras
is dead all the same
and there is momentary comfort in
the
void.