Brown spots behind my eye-lids
ideas smudged just like alcohol stains and i'm no longer aware of my surroundings.
What to do with myself; an undetermined brink of the unknown
standing over a blank panflit that would have never been
never has and never will be filled.
Words that spill these substances I drill into the specks that are these crevices of my thin skin, my pores
where my history lies, ready to take on anew
I wish I could.
And these wishes, longings
how never to be forgotten
when one craves the endless fullfillment that is to love and to cherish oneself.