Libera Me

Forgive me for this self indulgent art...

funny how when i feel like shit, i try and express myself in any way that isn't self destructive, and inevitably i end up feeling guilty about feeling like shit. tomorrow i'll get up and do it all over again, and try to convince myself that it matters... so i say fuck it. maybe i'll find that number. maybe i won't. maybe i'll crash in a coma when i get home. maybe i'll decide to fight and drag myself outside to battle my demons amidst the concrete and the other zombies that wander around thinking they've got it or knowing they don't. because maybe i'd feel better if i saw the sun every once in a while. maybe maybe just one last time i could convince my brain, convince my body that nothing matters, everything's all right anyway. why is everything playing tricks on me? i just want to feel good for a moment. and after that moment i want it to last as long as it can. and instead i get to sit here swallowed up by stink and wine stained carpet fibers and evil cockroaches, forever alone and behind forever trying to catch up. sometimes i get a taste of freedom... i want more. i want to stop wanting. i want to dissappear.

and hey folks... just as a reminder... everything is going to be just fine just fine.