of tears and abandonment

you took my hand, led me down a flower-lined path, promising me eternity.
through the twists and turns, the flowers grew thorns; they pricked and drew blood.
i took no heed, endured the million stings, because you were looking too far ahead to notice.
and then at once the path stopped, with nary a fork to guide us.
you let go of my hand, went on walking, you didn't even look back to see if i was following.
i stared at your figure, getting smaller and smaller; i was too dumbfounded and lost and abandoned to make my own step.

aut vincere aut mori

it's been two weeks.
i coast along in vodka-sprite-induced lucidity, hating the long days and the even longer nights.

there is no sleep for the weak and even less for the dying.

i have made friends with alcohol, but i have not made peace with it yet.
the constant need for the anesthesia brought on by triple-distilled spirits is creating a dependency i am still denying.

my right hand is bruised from an attempt to inflict pain on the wall--
innocent witness to my self-destruction.

i have lost all instinct of self-preservation, self-respect.
i have no love left to my name.

hey boy, a bucket of ice and your best, please.

a fortiori

seeking solace and solitude in song.

horrid habit