this quote reminds me of something i wrote.
only the very very last part of it,
but i’m gonna type it all up
it was the last poem i wrote before jasmine died.

Bad Luck

One way to beat writer’s block
is to just keep writing
but what is there to write about
that’s actually exciting
Get my thoughts out
A brigade of how
Brain storming, heart warming
Past forming, rest assuring

I remember the way we used to talk
Now years later, morbid fucking thoughts
God i need your guidance at all times
I’m lost and stranded without direction
I need a sign, I need a message
Repentance, acceptance, redemption, progression
I know these are the steps
I need to access it with my perspective

Every night at my job, I clean
to get out
Every night is the same routine
I black out
I need new glasses
but with pizza as my passion
money I am lacking
Eventually I’ll make it happen
There’s just so much distraction

I have a rip in my lip
My girlfriend says it’s because I don’t use chapstick
but I think it’s because I’ve been cursed with
all this madness, this bad luck
every little things add up
Was that sound of the wind or a car engine?
Is the furnace making music?
Am i losing it?

Lately I’ve been feeling like shit
I’m seeing a lot of the number six
and getting caught on the wrong side of things
I think my ghosts are evil
Where are the angels?
Bad luck still resumes
every which way I move
My regrets don’t understand
Follow me, not again

Scratching at the skin on my head
like I’m trying to open the door to the basement
or pull down the ladder going up to the attic
as I twist and rip, trying to pry within
trying to figure out something
the blood pours again, it hurts to touch it
this will never mend, i will never begin
an answer to my questions is all i wanted
but i have to resolve this or it’ll never end


i literally do have a problem where i scratch my head till it bleeds, this one part on my head, was actually bald for a while until i got in control of myself. i had one other spot thats not really bad anymore.
i also chew the insides on my gums till they bleed, i got that bad habit from my mom. sometimes i have to spit out the blood, but it’s usually when it’s at that point where i can’t stand the taste anymore that i stop.
at least i haven’t cut myself since i was a teenybopper.
i’ve been awake for 20 hours. i’m sure i’m tired but i’m very very good at ignoring that.
i wish i had a marley’s mellow mood drink. berry is soo fucking good. i need to clean out my bowl.

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