Painted into a Corner

After so many years of auto repeat hangovers, lovers, and blackouts, options can sometimes dwindle down to desperation and blind faith. The single thread that remains in my hands doubles as noose in which I occasionally attempt to hang myself with after explosions from wreckage in the fast lane. Everyone tells me life is meant to be lived, yet due I rarely witness words put into action, no need for judgement cause little does it matter to me whether others care to participate or standby awaiting the cliff notes. If 7 hour layovers, 28 hours on planes, and 3 weeks of self indulgent behavior have not cured me of the desire to implode, guess nothing will. Seeking out the unidentifiable, wandering through desperate wastelands, and blending in amongst the local populations, offer up opportunities to feel life in foreign lands. Dialogue no matter how broken can seem like injecting myself with overdose of LSD, escape the fear, the stress of being so far from self perceived personal safety can wear me down faster than any weekend binger, yet coming to terms with my fears has freed me to go anywhere, talk to anyone, and explore parts of the world, others only see on television. So why stop now.