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Some days, I feel like dead weight.
And you just carry on
you carry on.
And I'm so grateful, so ******** thankful
but I'm sorry, too
I didn't mean to be this weight on you.

- Copyright'd Addy's Brain, 2008

Today was one of those days. I'm so tired, and I feel really weird and numb. I haven't eaten anything all day, and I haven't seen a face besides my own, and this city's cavities are filled with such blind flat stares that I don't know what to do.
I wish I could fix you. I wish I could fix myself, but you like me broken, so I won't. Fantasies. Is that all we are?
Should I have done it? I don't know. It's not real, how does it matter to any of us? Mary Ann, tell me what to do. Tell me how to put myself behind myself, behind those great grey eyes staring down at you.
Mary Ann, you're a doll. You're all I wanted, you're everything and all. You bring a smile to this mime's blank face, you're the pinnacle of what's left of the human race. We keep living through this apocalypse, and you know it won't stop, we can't stop. We keep bleeding, keep the pulse racing, we're so addicted to adrenaline, it's a ******** miracle we all think we're going to heaven, we're so slathered in sin.
Heaven and hell, but what am I mourning? What hypocritical act am I in the process of scorning? Why do I keep pouring out prose in branded, cheap words, fill a mouth full of something that's worth more than sperm. It costs less anyways, a blessing on your grisly fingers, pulling forth dollar bills from the pockets of strangers.
Mary Ann, I'm so tired, I'm so ******** weary. Just came to say what's been said and it's left in a hurry, poured out in phrases I'm not fit to control, said what's been said in each angst-ridden poll.

Trite.