I woke,
all in white,
tortured,
teetering on the edge of forgiveness,
just as my eyes beg to bleed.
worry close to my skin,
the drugs, the women,
you better know,
down to New Orleans,
which will make me worse,
because that town even ate Samantha alive.
the love that takes everything
and the gratitude it takes
to keep saying words into this computer.
which way is me?