They know what's happening. They're watching me do it. They're tip toeing around it. The warmth falls over me like a fog from the 2nd shot of cognac. My wrists are too sprained and arthritic to punch myself anyway. My neck hurts, muscles so tight. My hands burn and tingle numb while typing. My bones break down. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

It just feels good to type this and put it to words from my tormented mind. I don't even look while i type. Where does it go? Does God listen?

I pay for the sins of my fathers. The seeds of decay in the fruits of pleasure.

I took the easy road that proved to be the rockiest.

Was there a reason that was bigger than myself?

I don't care about this stupid man. He can go to hell. I just melt back to the earth.