blood will

deny blood if the price is right
if the risk is too great
the chance to save face too high
if the payment brings enough pleasure
because it can't. won't.
refuses to see the end
when blood is all you got.
and its futile attempts
at kissing your ass
have failed to entertain
or protect its good name.

it's like

stretching. and like getting ripped to shreds. and questioning how you've gotten to where you are. and who you really are. and what you stand for. and the kind of person you want to be. like wondering if anyone feels like telling the truth or hearing yours. and questioning whether friends who said nice things in the good times meant them when it's bad. and it's like getting to a place in your life where you really like yourself and then forgetting why. it's like refusing to see people as the sum of their mistakes. but acknowledging that we all make our own beds. it's like giving all you've got with the best of intentions and then realizing that for some people that will never be enough.

help

i love november and leaves and cider and pumpkins and season appropriate poetry and naps and books and road trips and robes.

i obviously don't mind bad punctuation when i'm in a rush to say something.

i do however hate apathy.