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Saturday, July 16, 2011


Drugs and dogmas,
Pills and prayers,
All of God's men and all of Doctor's nurses couldn't put me back together again.
I've got one more borrowed pearl of poison to put in your ear:
Maybe things break for a reason.
And maybe I was right the first time when I heard "get busy living or get busy dying,"
Because dying is my whole life whenever I'm forced to live alone and I've got a sneaking suspicion that that's not quite the precipice of health.
I've broken another phone and lost another heart--or maybe it's the other way around.
Either way the garbage disposal can have both of them.
I'll hike out of the Valley of Death with every bone in my body broken if I have to:
Nothing could possibly hurt worse than staying here.

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