chango luchador

for some months now, I often i have bad dreams like I'm falling, and i wake up scared

sometimes it takes me a while to remember where I am - it's dark, and it's cold, and it's empty. every time I open my mouth to scream, dry sand pours in - fills me up from the inside out and sets hard like concrete. I can't move - can't breathe

can't die

standing now, on the verge of something beautiful - my hand is on the doorknob, I can see light shining under the door - But I don't know it's source. is it the unsteady, flickering flame that could consume me again, run through my spine and leave ash trickling from my ear; or the warm diffuse glow of a heart beating in time with mine?

it's too early to tell. but is it ever too late?

she has lips that dance with red mischief, sweet wine that when i lay awake at nights - I can almost taste them, a whisper on the palate of warmth and shade and safety.

but i'm not half the man i should be. and i think people know it.

and that's got people worried

hell, it's got me worried.

i don't want to hurt her; but more then that, I don't want to get hurt. if I let her in; i run that risk.

but if I keep her out... I'll never have the chance.

fuck. it's been over a month since I last ate acid. I can't write for shit. I just spew tired cliche after cliche, I can't fucking THINK, I am DULL and fucking DEAD INSIDE

i want to fucking breathe again. feel again. love again

i'm ready for my heart to start beating now

will you put the air back in my lungs? the colour in my day?

the love in my life?