a call to arms

"suicide, we're running out of empty.
all i have is candy bars and costumes to defend me.
and you'd say 'you used to taste so sweet.'
do i look like candy?"

take a deep breath. it can either be the breath that brings that snap of steely cold that we call reality and all of it's sobering aspects like the people we love, the things we haven't done, the places we've yet to see, the individuals we haven't met yet, or the sex we haven't had back to mind, thus providing us the reason to live. or it can be the breath that gives us the one last flooding rush we need to let our feet leave the ground, let our eyes close behind the wheel, or let that blade go just a little deeper. the question we have to ask ourselves is which one our next deep breath will be. i don't think we as people take the time to understand the impact of that breath. i've been on both ends of the spectrum. so what are you breathing today?


what a support group i have. i gave up on me a long time ago, and half of you don't even know the dark things in me, but you're still running beside me. and even now, shaking off this sleepy ache, i know that it can't be as sick as i think it is. it's all coming alive. i won't forget your love.

"god bless you all"

and i'll remember what you told me: it's not all fucked.