If you want to live…

Bankruptcy is not a way out. I wonder if anything is. I’m not writing as much as I should, nor am I working out as much as I should. I suffer the weeks stolidly, waiting for the next 2 days off, which differ from week to week.

I am doing a job so far beneath me I need a parachute to sink to its level.

I hate my life, where it’s headed.

My goal is to review this post (or rather, the date since the post and site may be long gone) and revel at my good fortune in no longer having to work such a lousy job for no pay. I want to shudder for sheer ecstasy that I was able to make it out of the morass I’m in now.

I hate my life, there’s no turning back, and I’m out of clichés.

just another fucking loser at 1AM

sawblades sawblades whirrr through my guts like nothing in their way.

burping yogurt at 1AM, no hope, just fresh water and youporn to quench the fires
that never die.

broke, bankrupt, full of sorrow and sparrow shit,
what we used to call the amino acid syrup we drank as young teens before lifting weights one or two times then

never again.

youth is wasted on the young and killed by the old until
all your dreams sit yellowed like a driver’s license from years and years ago.

bouncers in the club ruin everything.

i hate myself, my failures stick
like steel plates in my withering spine
but it also feels good to hate everything else
but me
and neither pain lasts forever.