Sitting here, staring blankly
I wonder what to scratch and scribe
No walls to scale, holes to dig
Almost content in this whole thing
But somethings waiting, scratching
Scratching at the door in which to be let out
I would release it, if I only knew
Knew what it was that sought its freedom
And so here I'll sit, one more night
Blankly typing, scrawling, on the screen
Hoping that this one may just be it
The one to set light ablaze inside
Let the fire roll as it burns down the walls
Smoke pouring from now gaping holes
Holes in which it can escape, run away
Towards the night, whatever it happens to be
About the Creator
CgtWriting
Not entirely sure what I write about at the moment, but that doesn't stop me from pouring my all into every piece.
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Day 4 of Quitting
If this is how sobriety feels, maybe it’s better to go through life a little buzzed… this, along with other hits like, I want to kill myself, I wish I was dead, and I’m going to throw myself off a bridge have been the only thoughts on rotation these past few days. I promise myself that if, in a month, I still feel like this (‘this’ meaning despondent, full of rage, and simultaneously numb) I can go back to smoking. Until mid-February though? Nicotine is off the table.
By sleepy drafts6 days ago in Longevity
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