I'm perpetually having a falling out with myself. Firmly believing in my own personally bred destruction, I am a stray. I creep through night and squint through day. I only tend for one thing and she's slowly trying to kill me. Dad asked, "Are you still living here?" I said yes, promised I'd be home for the night, then hung up straight to disappointment. I woke up this morning and I was sandwiched between my Every Days. We slept on a bed that once housed a junkie and I was uneasy. I tried to recall the night before but all the nights have swirled into the same simple scenes. My eyes won't recover from the yellow so I burn till they're red and glassy. Till my mind forgets the next words I want to say aloud and I'm silently steadying myself to be still. 'Maybe tomorrow,' I like to tell myself. But I have no intentions of digging myself out of this. I intend to sink lower. Just to see how far I can stray.
