all i wanted was morning tea and a dose of you, but all my fucked up mind can afford was sleeping pills and vodka spills.

as if somebody injected a dose of past downfalls into me last me. it rushed me off my feet sliding on coldstone and breaking down on my bathroom floor. why is it that tears seem to think they find their peace soaking into bathroom tiles, that i'll never understand.

well there is conor oberst moaning loudly in the background to some fucking depressing notes, not thinking this life was possible.

so i thought i needed some nicotine, miraculously hiding in one of these bags. but they weren't. instead i found pills for the faint hearted and wide opened eyes and a bottle of vodka lullaby.

but they didn't put me to sleep. they pushed me in and pulled me out of the faint conciousness between the racing of my heartbeats. i met a life so parrallel to mine, with the same rusty cracks in mind and heart, drowning in and out of life. except in this light, the life i met, they get to die and find an end to it.

so i stay down and play dead, wrestling with time, heartburns and heartbeat races, sweat swirled with tears, erasing all traces of morning light smears. and when the time comes of morning light lanes, i found my knees crack and no longer a form of solid feet to walk upon.

maybe i've unconciously been walking backwards, continuing one of the longer days i started, and forgot to feed on the pains. maybe even chew on them too. the ones that aren't visible in white lights of morning.