Dim yellow lights cast sickly glows on faces and I stare, mesmerized by my broken reflection in the shattered mirror. The smell of incense fills the air of the small squarish room with white walls and wood paneled floors.


Melancholy grips the soul, twines around the heart like poison ivy and takes control of the senses. Amid the haze and yellow light, vague memories surface, demanding to have its audience with me. I think back on the people who have disappeared from my life. I think of the piercing heartaches I have had and of those people whose heart I may have callously broken. I think of those souls who have flown a thousand miles away, to the other side of the world and of those who stay by my side, comforting me. I think of the lies I have told, of the alcohol running through my veins. I think of overdosing on caffine and being so high on pot. I think of bars with its neon lights. I think of clubs and of being so in the moment that I end up dancing on the bar top with the world at my feet. I think of how I once felt invincible. I think of all the times I’ve gotten so drunk that I pass out wherever I am. I think of the times I’ve been stoned at someone else’s place and how its amazing nothing awful has happened to me yet. I think of the crappy, angsty poetry I've written. I think back on the times where I’m lying in someone’s arms and hoping that the moment will never end and that dawn will never come. I think of the foolishness of youth and how I’m too old for this.

It can't be that my destiny is to wander the cracks of life. I need sign and directions to point me the right way. The only thing is that the fog is so think, it obscures my sight.

breathe // dream

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