I'm sorry

I'm sorry I cant change the way my brain displays these fragile thoughts at 8AM I havnt slept yet but the empty pill and beer bottles next to my bed speak a message deeper than I can... maybe you should ask them. Reduced to nothing, I am nothing. Wishes and hopes float away like ashes of cigarettes and I only have dreams that everyone forgets... about me...

I know less about myself than my closest friends. Abuse of my favorite drugs , I use it as my excuse. I'm the proprietor of my own poison. Why would I even pray if that's never gotten anywhere? Why would I even stay in this life if I cant find motivation to have a single care... The drugs are just tools that I have to use. A secret kept from most giving me a choice and I have to choose. Do I spew my bad news or sit and silence and let my self lose? Constantly on auto pilot, I was always told to never use the button labeled "cruise" so I could use my own instincts and skill set to maintain control of the vehicle but maybe we can just say my finger slipped. I forget nothing but remember nothing. Maybe I am nothing. People tell me I'm something, and maybe being something was never meant for me and now I'm just entangled in a mess of what and who I wish I could be.

6 feet of soil seems to be the destination
"Are we there yet?"
I've never been so eager to ask such a stupid question...