It’s Not Emptiness

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Disemboweled, lying in the corner of a street at the edge of town. A place where the accumulation of cigarette smoke is all you know. And it’s the growth of self deprecating thoughts that invade what sanity lingered in the deepest depths of your mind, the parts stitched in truth now corroding away. And it is in every molecule of your being that you can feel the pain, embedded into skin once smooth as silk.

And you are no longer sorry. And you are no longer empty. That was the beginning, emptiness. Now you seem to be filled, brimming with anxiety. Your flesh inflating with numbness as you start to overflow with resentment towards your self. So much so that it’s leaving scars on your arms in the form of needle marks. Substance living in your veins building a home inside your heart, let the addiction begin. Narcotics, drug after drug after drug. Then there’s one more, one more before it’s all too much. A mere parasite. A disease you willingly inject into yourself. But It helps you forget.

Isn’t that what it’s all about? Trade the memories for the power to press “erase”. Undo the past and dive into now, for a moment that is.-H

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