It is dust, dry-goodbye that has kept me alive and now I’m closer to the earth than when my head was in the clouds and now I’m not aloud -not aloud back into who I was. Once.
Now its time to watch my feet step right/left/right and get up out of the dunces chair watch my lungs inhale in/out I steal the air.
I was always taught not to take up too much room.
Depression leaves everyone; eventually…it left me with a personality crisis.
I was once a better friend. A better lover. So much more together. Falling apart, a Los Angeles mudslide, above me was worse I know.
I have defended you many times. In all the “fuck the world” proclamations I have again and again said “oh, c’mon now yes, there are shit-heads but shit-heads are going through shit too.”
A few years ago you stole my identity until. Later you stole my car. You sold death to a friend and stole her to.
Don’t worry, I’m over it.
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