GPS

Everyday I tell myself,
"I am not a ghost, I am not a memory."
Though, I don't believe my yesterday's.
The truth is I don't remember the last time
I recognizably felt alive or even
The precice moment it all fell apart

But,

I can remember the silence after the tidal wave

And the deafening fear.

Two at the core and twenty seven in circumfrance
Is the time line,
Only a fractal of how it all went wrong.

I left this place for two years all the while convincing myself
That the numbers were wrong,
That I had made it out but, the fact is, no one makes it out.
I locked myself in with friends, drugs and booze and
Even found God, stoic and comical as ever.
Funny enough, the only time we ever talk
Is when I don't realize I'm trying to kill myself.

At the moment I'm waiting and dreaming
Because it's all I have left.
LIfelike is the best I can manage until the circumstances
Out me as a fool or a liar.

The only reason I still write
Is because I still believe, regardless of geography.