We were both spread thin laying there.
Dead inside in our own unique ways.
Staring at pealing paint on the ceiling, both counting the minutes until we fell asleep.
There wasn’t much sleep.
It’s a rapid dissolve .
We’ve lied to ourselves and each other for too long.
I’ve been in love with an idea before, the idea is always irresistible.
In that sense I am an addict. When I am weak that is my drug of choice.
In his last throws an addict can be the ugliest thing you have seen.
Anger becomes Ire.
Man at Zero 