Whiskey nightmares morning sweats

Saw a mouse in the living room last night, and while i had to put a pair of shoes on, i couldn't bring myself to set a mousetrap. I wonder how long we can co-exist with Mother's phobia. How long before she has forced one of us to murder.

...and while this is a metaphor, it is a true story. I am looking to escape. I am aching to walk away. Before it becomes too late.

Sometimes she cannot move, she needs her batteries charged, by a human heart. Anything for a springboard. Anything to stop or start spinning. Anything to feel different. Anything. He finds dark secrets easy to tell drunken strangers. Streamlining series of events to a simple act of consequence. With friends who always understand to end these conversations. Staring at the page missing sunrise in blue skies Watch scenery in minds eye Process memories Assign some meaning to each belief Move onto next scene. Writing words hide their truth. Its just coincidence he thought. That should set You free While lies encase You break repetitions regime Unlearn triggered response You made Yourself breakdown Self designed by external parts Your perception determined their participation. After all, are you not me?