Okay so after a few years I have stumbled back to to my beginnings here at diaryland. I would redesign this blog but I can't even guster the will to get off of this goddman couch and do something of meaning. Inste4ad I will mope, bytch, moan and drink to myself and what I've created.

This is worthless.

A failed mistrial by fire.
I've seen children with more heart than my own.
Trapped by my own design.
Listening to old music for old people drinking jack daniels and ale. I need that bittersweet aroma molesting my nostrals and it's flavor coating my lips.

Relationshipt to relationship I bounded hands binded. What the fuck am I doing?

Who am I really hurting? Is this intentional? Self inflicted?

.. the bar room hero enters the room and collapses into a fetal ball of emotion with nothing but scarred limbs to show what he hasn't learned....

fin.