phoenix

it’s 4PM by the time my eyes bleed open.

a long night turned short morning of blue screens and vape clouds could be the culprit. 10 beers and a revolving view of my damp backyard is just as likely.

stretch. phone. nicotine.

back to the grind.

maybe I’ll write a little. plan to go to the gym. aspire to remedy my ongoing patheticity with life changing motivation. dream of a better me.

but it’s all the same in the 4 walls of my bedroom. safe in the confines of my bed, as long as the lights stay low.

the nights grow longer and colder as the days grow more tiresome and tedious.

I sometimes think about how hard it would be to squeeze my bones and flesh into a small package and have it delivered to the bottom of the ocean.

cold toes. dark eyes. a face no longer recognisable in the mirror. fat.

the crippling weight of existence and it’s proceeding debt crush my spine into a fine paste, and snorting the dust from my bones you will find the most pitiful of highs.

pitiful highs is all I know and live by. the brush of a hand. the acknowledgement of knowledge. the nod at the local bottle shop.

I kick rocks into the gutter and pretend to be more than I am.

but I’m turning the corner.

social outgoings. renewed interest in media. fresh albums and embers of enjoyment in games I’d forgotten. my collection of people I poke and prod to give me their valuable time.

the ashes from which I am attempting to rebuild are soaked through with rain but some bricks of the old house remain.

I will find what I like about myself once more, the trail is cold but not dead.

I will become new. better.

you’ll see.