hello whiskey, my old friend.

yes, it’s really me.

i know it’s been a long time

you must have been lonely

and-

yes, there is something wrong

i know.

i know.

i only call when something is wrong

when everything falls apart.

when the bottles of pills are as empty

as my metaphors.

i know.

i’m a shit friend.

i should call when i have good news

when it’s not so heavy to smile

when it’s not so heavy to live.

i know

i know

god

do i know

but you are all i have

when the light bulbs of the world all burn out

and the keystrokes are the only company i keep

and

and

and-

goddammit.

so please help.

i’m begging you.

because the world crushed me today.

as atlas shrugged

as the sidewalk ended

as all of the mice

as all of the fucking men

branded scarlet letters

into my flesh

as every inch of burnt skin

was lorded over

by the flies.

as nothingness

was all i owned anymore.

give me the greatness of gatsby

give me a tale that will be read in more than two cities

give me pride worthy of prejudice

give me people who will expect greatness from me.

give me art

give me war

give me

something.

please.

but no

here i sit

talking to whiskey and wine

like some madman.

with books of genius i am guilty of ignoring

five feet away

too fucking far for me apparently

an odyssey

an iliad

too fucking afraid of adventure

put to shame by huckleberry-fucking-finn.

so i guess that’s my crime

and my punishment is appropriate

never beautiful

forever damned

just another generic soul.

just another

of les misérables.