Alright.  Let's get down to it.  Let's get our faces dirty.  Smear them in mud.  Let it crust over.  Peel away the dried chips.  Here we go:


    A loss.  There is a loss.  A giant gaping hole in my chest.  What falls out?
    Is that organ still pumping blood in there?  Does it still find reason to beat?
    And who cares, really?  Misery finds you.  There’s no need to create it.  It will hunt you down and it will destroy you.  This territory has been conquered.  Burn it down.  Roll in the ashes.  Cover yourself in dust.

    Air doesn’t meet my lungs so easily tonight.

    And I’m hoping the Trazodone and Mirtazapine will knock me out.  I’m hoping I don’t have to achieve sleep on my own.  I can do nothing on my own.  Hold my hand.  Lead the way.  I will follow.  Blindly.  Foolishly.  How truly horrid one night can be.  Give life a few minutes and it will tear you to shreds.  It will ravish your spirits and leave you bare and cold.

    Damn.