just married ... 10 years ago .

if i stared in his eyes for 3 hours , there would be no activity .
i thought i saw something midway between the second hour,
but it was just the reflection of his forty ounce .
im tugging at his mind for a glimpse of something worth while .
but his wild devoured him, puking him out on the sidewalk where executive assistants in their pro-fessional stilettos tread across what used to be his being .

his vegitable state makes me feel like i never want to eat again .
the world is a slut that moves from one life to the next .
his has been screwed over one too many times . his status updates always seem to read, "FML" .
it's only a declaration of disdain and remorse . because,
the transition of losing hope is one similar to acid, burning through your soul painfully until the flesh becomes liquid .
its painful, piercing, and pushing the mind into a place that he never saw comming .

im pulling his hands just to get a reaction .
an embrace, something that was there .
i smile as he gets out of his lazyboy, but frown when he reaches for the cellphone to call work .
his looks of contempt could equate to 10 inch nails on a chalkboard .
bending and scraping along the edges of the black surface . perhaps im being scraped away .
so i sit back and sip his forty ounce,
maybe the yellow-ish film will be bright enough to wake him?