read
write
members
about
account

 

datedatememberrandomsearch

May 30, 2005
Eyes burn.
Hands shake.
Legs limp.
Brain dead.
Heart empty.
Pocket full...of money and the promise of. Comprising metal shards and wood shavings, plastic cards and scratch-off tickets, this is my existence.

I have to get through this one day at a time. I don't have the strength to think any further than that...no, even shorter. I have to stay awake for the entire hour. I'll worry about the next one when it comes.

But words come slowly. They all feel so foreign. The only one that sounds right is sleep. I will, when this hour is over. I will...