Note To Self

Spit it out.
Words you've swallowed so many times but can't produce at will. Using sentences as stilts to stand tall above all the others but never really growing up. You watch others fall without offering a hand and reach out for someone, anyone as you're going down. Embrace won't appear without a tie that binds. You flake and peel like an aging adhesive which can't hold on to anything at all.
Climbing wallpaper ladders as you lift yourself from slumber, your apathetic yawn paints your morning a dim shade of gray. Fix your posture and stumble from your dwelling, propelled by nothing more than an unmotivated sense of necessity. You must feed the beast which demands accomplishment, be it no more than a stroll under clouds which envelop any light above them.
You are that cloud. You take the light which others cast toward you and put it out. Extinguish it in yourself and in them. You darken each sunny day which friends provide and bring a storm of unforeseen doom. You are gray though you inhale light.
Spit it out.

dm.