18/3/11
I stand on my porch and I retreat
from that first step, I am beat
because the bottom one seems to lead
straight to Hell, yet at the same time
I’m backing right into it in the shape
of my front door, I won’t get any further today.

I’m tired and I’m broken and screw structure,
I can’t find it in life – why should I find it in rhyme?

Outside holds fear and I hate the sound of my cry,
Inside holds my worst enemy – I keep running back to
the bottle that made me feel this way,
A vicious cycle is such an understatement.

I retreat further and further,
I recede further and deeper,
I isolate more and more,
I retreat further and further,

I stand on my porch chain smoking
because it’s better than anything
my head is telling me to do -
at least this way the death is slow,

I’m not old enough to feel so much,
I’m not young enough to find innocence,
I’m in some kind of purgatory
between my front door and those steps
I won’t take, I’m in some kind of internal Hell,

I retreat further and further,
I recede further and deeper,
I isolate more and more,
I recede so deep into myself,

I’m scared the only reason I’m alive is because this heart is beating,
And I hate the sound of my own breath coming in and out,
I’m scared the only reason I’m alive is the rise and fall of my chest,
And I hate the sound of my own living,

I recede deeper into myself.