Masks part two

Here I am again. I am in the very same place. I am sitting on my couch reflecting on the day I let you in. I drove a wedge into your heart or was that the needle into my skin? I just wanted to hear you  buzzzzzzzz. The world had fuzzy edges. What is so odd, so different about me? It is hard for me to make a sentence when all you see is that I am using the wrong words.

I am sitting in the corner. I have a drink in my hand. I will have the same drink all night long. I feel the coldness. The perspiration on the glass. The bitter taste against my lips. This is not my poison.  I spend twenty minutes in the bathroom so I can sit at this table. Your conversation turns into my dream state as I slowly fade from view. I am here, and I am near but I am oh so far away

I hear your whispers. Yes, I am a fuck up. I am smart enough to know this world is fucked, so I am fucked up. Why don't I just get clean. Clean as in a place? Clean as in an object? Where do I go get some of this clean? I try and try and try and try again.

What is there behind the mask? The part than no one understands. A comfortable silence hidden just out of view. My double life is wearing out my soul. I have lost control.

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