your sum

it's funny,
when your alone,
in your room,
doing nothing but drinking
a can of beer and
lighting cigarettes in your mouth
like it's some epiphany,

you think back
in your memory warehouse
about those other times you were
alone
in a different room,
or a patio,
or a even a graveyard,
inbetween the different states.

and every time
when you were alone,
you faced those same dusty records,

except then,
the records wore
a little less dust.

you measure yourself,
by distance,
by girls,
by everything
that you almost accomplished,
and still
this beer isn't enough,
this cigarette tastes like
every single one you've smoked before,

but your head and
your heart
are in perfect unison
reminiscing
about ghosts
and
images
that crushed
and
choked
and
beat you
into the perfectly evolving
bloodied mess
you are today.