An Honest Day

 Every single day I think I'm fine; everything is fine, and everything is going to be finer than now or some day or one day.

But I am not fine. I feel beaten down and crushed. Something can go right out of all of these things in life! Some ray of light can shine on me. There is a possibility, but where the fuck is it?

I am running out of air in my lungs and hope in my heart. All these things are squeezing them out of me, and you expect me to go on?

Today, right now, I can't see beyond this wall. I desperately bang my hands on it, and the only thing that shakes is my faith; all that is cracking is my heart; all that is crumbling down is my hope. 

Today, I am not fine. Today, I am broken and weak and on the floor lying, almost dying, drained of my creativity and my will to continue. 

Today, I don't like this place I am at, on the road to infinity. But I have no strength, no flow to move.

And tonight, the only creative thing I can do is to die on a canvas. 

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