EmAmEmD7
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the ache just aches. too much pain to vomit. dull and escalating. all has been tried.
fits and screams, vulgarities and silence. nothing will help. the woe is real. Such a petty thing.
fandom and it's inevitable false hope. the party ends quick, left with crumbs and dishes. run around the corner, make a drop. take the long road to nowhere.
through the fog and January rain. inches matter and instant replay don't lie. historic pass for 35 yards. and the kick slipped through.
the depression was striking and clear. this was not the blues, nothing that a tune could cure. tried it all. three threes in a row.
laid flat on the back. weight training, hot tub, and 35 huge breaths of menthol-laiden steam. wore all black. humor is not funny, anger isn't working.
distractions perhaps, TV and glow. irritable and unpredictable, poor dogs. Pete Delkus has a new hair color as he tracks the tornadoes in the area. we should skip the sportscast.
put the radar on the screen. chin up my cowboy brothers and sisters, heaven is still badass. this sweet tooth is only a trap. medicine, of the drowsy kind.
wonder of MLK's favorite team. he understood the weakness of us all, the sin we can't overcome ourselves. regardless of our vows, despite our commitments. our dedication is worthless, our hope is misplaced.
failure is a gift, a sting that burns. the embers can become flames again. but the air is polluted for now, just smoke and ash. our shoulders slump, our necks tilt forward.
all seasons end.