breakingpoint

I read once that anger is a sign of life.

I don't feel alive. Only a smidge of red going about. A couple of bloody lungs. I can't scream so I don't how to ask for you to hear me out. Listen. No, listen, listen.

I'm nothing, I'm falling apart. Everything I write sucks and everything I speak is mean spirited. Last night in a dream someone took me into a car and killed me. I woke up thinking please. Please.