308th Post

Ah.

How time flies.

It's almost the end of the month.
For the so called new year.

As another windy night comes to pass.

I sit with a glass in hand.
And a blood stained razor in another.

Lost in the haze of alcohol.
Confused by the numerous dark corridors.
I don't know where to head next.

What am i feeling?
Why am i here?

Would i be better off dead?
Perhaps so.

Tick tock.
Tick tock.

Can you hear it?
It's a clock.

Counting down.
To my eventual destruction.

I lie in bed.

No tears flow.
Only blood.

Silence is my friend now.

Sometimes it's funny.
How life can hurl cruel ironies.

Funny.
Yet heart wrenching.

Because it often causes dormant scars.
To reawaken.

Sigh.

I need my razor.
To carve.

The reasons.
Why i exist in this wretched world.