i have left myself utterly speechless at a time when i cannot be, when i need to account for myself, for who i used to be and what i’ve become.
there is little talk of what lies ahead, it stretches endlessly, stark and barren, everything i imagined it be, without rest, without end, without hope.
i have left myself on the side of the road, arrogant and bruised and it is still not enough, i have not been beaten enough, i’ve yet to be beaten enough.
all i can do is pick at the pavement, fit my fingernails between the cracks and wonder how much effort would it take to bury myself under there, how much pressure can this amount of cement and tar and traffic exert on this corpse of mine.
and would it be enough, it was never enough, it can never be enough, will never be enough, how to measure it?
enough.