Flashing life passing me by

These past two weeks have been the crueslest fun I've ever inflicted on myself. Wicked falls. Alcoholic poisoning. Robbed by bitches and thugs while passed out drunk. And returned for more with a glee for life as if I was about to die, and almost did. If death is akin to an alcoholic blackout then it must be something we won't know when the time comes. But living as a supernova, then crashing into my dipsomaniacal black hole　took weeks to recover, months more for my finances too. Risk still abounds. I think Charlie Sheen and Lindsay Lohan must be my first cousins. Perhaps they are. Perhaps this is just living while we're alive. A fitful angst driven effort to be before not being undoes us all. undead for now. sign

The truth comes out

Yes, the truth comes out, like a time bomb. I say something, but can't say anything. When I do, the dam breaks, and everything I've ever done wrong, even if it was done right gets. Never doing enough, but when I do, never enough. She hates me. For what I've done, which I don't care. Rambling. My point, I know she wants me dead. Like over my dead body. Life is short, and she's gonna bury me good. A sadistic sinister bitch indeed. And when she does bury me, no doubt she'll smile thinking she was right all along, and grin that I can't defend myself in my wake.