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memory lane

i have a bad predilection
for putting myself in these situations
since we broke up.
from one desensitized and detached asshole
to the next.

there is a cold wall next to me in bed.
i suppose it is a person who is not you.  perhaps
this new person i once felt compassion for.  
maybe that is why i’m here. 

disgusted by life as always. 
you could never stand that about me
or how i blamed you for everything
like right now
i want to
scream into your shoulder 
about how i had to do this
because you pushed me away,
that i had to leave
because in the mornings when i
would wake up
and see you
sleeping alone
it felt like
i had killed myself.

the decision to go east
	another in a life
	that has been a series
	of bad decisions.

	i was getting better.
		the world was starting
		to look clear, precise.
		i knew my destiny
		held my future, in my own hands.
		then i muddled it up.
		smeared grease across my face.

i want to come home
	and tell you everything.
	about how silly shit is out here
	and that you were always the best judge
	of a persons character
	without even meeting them.
	how i’m guilty and full of regret
	for never listening,
	when all you wanted
	was to help me.
but i cannot go home.
i burnt it down the first time i left.
what’s there is skeletal remains.
exposed nerves.
ghosts i hang onto.
now you’d tell me
i did it to myself
that i chose a fucked up half life
	mongoloid unloved existence
with a drunk who has more affections for a cat.
all because i couldn’t stay
committed to change
living in your graveyard.

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