death to feelings

feelings aren’t supposed to exist in my body anymore,
at least,
not these types of feelings.
(I’ve consumed enough drugs to last two lifetimes, which was intended to murder these mutha fucking feelings.)

It’s not possible to feel for someone else,
not after the last one, which was the last one.

[trips to N.Y., S.F., N.O. have only resulted in your initials etched on my heart.]

It could very well be that I’m high
and my judgment is clouded;
but my gut tells me that I’m high off
her high.

this may be the most torturous moment of my life,
or the most important.

Either way, I’m going to leave it up to the psychedelics to guide me.

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Recently moved back to the States after living 16 months in Vietnam. I write to remove the thoughts trapped in the cobwebs of my psyche before the spider envelopes me whole.

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