My head hurts, tension from temple to temple.
Each time I get this ache, it is relatively worse, increased perhaps?
I know it is from the damage that my drug addiction has done to me – this pain is my own self inflicted hatred.
And as I write these words upon the screen, the tears burning my eyes disappear,
& I am silent.
I am still.
These are the moments when all is empty, these are the moments in which I truly despise myself.
Filthy fucking whore.
Sometimes I want it all & then some.
And I’m still struggling to believe in love.
I’m emotionally detached, desensitization is no foreigner to me.
My clothes smell like cigarettes.
My lungs are burnt.
I lost my sense of smell somewhere in between my crack pipe & snorting lines off of toilet seats in stripclubs.
The tears I cry are bitter & warm, they flow with life but take no form.