Woke up.

Packed my bags. Made sure I had enough patch cables. 

Set out for the day.

What bandh? It's all just an excuse.

At the magician's studio, we spend hours and hours trying to fix the last minute creases.

He is my guardian angel. My hero.

Both of them, such rockstars.

I am blessed to have them in my life, guiding me every step of the way.

But it's not enough to knock some sense into me. 

The withdrawal kicks in.

Trembling hands.

I'm going to fall.

No I'm not. I can do this.

Play it out.

Play it out.

But this time really does feel like the end.

I have no strength left anymore.

Mentally.

Physically.

Emotionally.

I feel ugly.

It hurts.

I feel tainted.

It hurts so much.

This sobriety is killing me.

Taking away my will to live, to fight.

Never again. 

Never again.

But I just want the pain to end.

Never again, I swear.

Why did I start doing *?

I try and remember. I think it had something to do with my spirit being crushed by a boy. 

I say boy and not man because that is what he was.

My shame.

My dirty little secret.

My bad decisions.

My window to bad drugs.

And now I've gone too far down the rabbit hole.

I can't seem to get back up.

I feel like I've lost the battle.

After all these years of struggle.

I've lost.

I don't have the strength or the motivation to get back up anymore.

I still can't decide if it's an act of extreme bravery or cowardice to let go. End the misery once and for all.

Maybe I need to really think about which one it is.

Everything will become infinitely easier once I decide. Once and for all.

It hurts.

It hurts.

It hurts.

I can't believe it hurts so much.

When will this end.

Will this ever end?

Songs About Men With Dick Disorders

Ugly men, uglier souls.

Can't even keep an erection.

Use me.

Use me.

So I can use you right back.

The new songs come to me like I am possessed.

So much hate.

So much misguided hate.

But it's worth it.

Turn the humiliation into a song.

Or two.

Or two million.

I could go on forever, till I find closure.

Preparing for war this time around.

No mercy.

I will tell the whole world about how I was fucked and ditched.

I have no shame.

I am vengeance.

I am fury.

I am the goddess you treated like dirt.

Now you must suffer the consequences.

Withdrawal

It's a scab I shouldn't pick.

Hanging on to whatever little sanity I have left.

My body craves for one hit, just one more.

I'll be fine after.

An epileptic fit.

I'm passed out on the ground.

Shaking violently.

It's hot and cold at the same time.

I down some cough syrup to help me sleep.

My dirty secret.

My bad drugs.

One more hit and I'll stop.

Junkie.

Fucking junkie. 

That's who I am.

Shame.

Humiliation.

Anything to keep my mind off things.

When I was 12 I thought I'd seen the worst in the workd. But I was wrong.

The monsters lurk everywhere.

They seduce you, charm you.

They have their way with you.

Abandon you after.

My drugs don't.

Always available, that one hit.

I'm shooting up my poison and nobody even knows.

They miss the signs.

The weightloss.

The dark circles under my eyes.

My trembling hands.

"i'm just tired"

That's not entirely a lie.

I am incredibly tired.

Of people.

Of having my heart broken.

One more hit and it'll all be over.