Push. Pull. Break. Repeat.

It's strange when you realize that despite every reason in the world to be a smarter, more guarded, a little bit jaded, bitter, self-preserving bitch... you are still the same old idealistic, naive idiot -- ready and willing to be taken for granted and hurt all over again.

I just can't seem to shake it. I can't seem to escape this internal hope. This prayer and possibility that maybe... just maybe this time... people will treat me the way I treat them. The way I deserve to be treated.

But it doesn't happen. It Never. Fucking. Happens.

And I am left with only one conclusion: I am doomed to be forever damaged, lonely, yet dementedly, self-destructively positive that the next time will be different.

The problem is that on one hand, I hate myself for being this way... but deep down I sort of believe that it's what makes me so damn awesome. A classically suited, double-edged sword. My tragic flaw. Good Lord, do I fancy myself a hero.

... (and a poet).

i flirt with failure
harboring only one true intention:
to drive the procrastination
out of my fingers.

rock bottom, he said
he was so desperate to hit it
but his aim was off
either that

... or i was in his way.