Ying and Yang, Pleasure and Pain

Another weekend down, like milk bottles knocked over by an ugly alley cat.
Music, swaying bodies, and the tortured piece of meat in my head I call my brain.
Days of Seattle rain mean I hole up in my pad and look for a piece of rope to either hang myself with or cut and restore.

An emptiness burns a whole in my heart like like a cigarette fallen out of a drunks fingers onto her bed sheets
only to engulf my life in the flames that she started.

The rain won't go away
neither will the emptiness

even when the sun shines
it's raining in my heart

pouring out my soul
to this fucking blog
like it matters
or makes a difference