Tick Tock

I do not enjoy being here, not right now anyway. Once upon a time, the bed that I rest on marked a place of comfort and secrecy in between encounters linked to  need for privacy and craving for inspiration. The red walls don't call me in as they used to, and to put it to you simply, I don't want to fucking be here. Excuse my profanity, I can assure you I was raised correctly, provided that our values are equally corrupted.

I don't need to be here - I came here to make it easier on someone else when all hell breaks loose to the sight of a dirty dish. I came here in the hope to provide a sense of stability in a time of grief, but it feels like I am here for nothingness minus the dogs that wag their tails to every single sight of me - they're making this worth it among all else that frustrates me, yet I am pleased to inform you that the clock is still ticking. Tick tock, told you so; listen to silence - it deafens you instantly, stealing your sanity; who did you say you were and what is it you want from me? Dig deeper...you're missing something. 

I have bad memories here. Memories of struggle and a feeling of emptiness that I don't want to remember. I escaped that state some time ago, and forgive me if I'm not too thrilled about the reminder of chaos; the unwanted type. This week has ignited a spark in me that is not warmly welcomed, but every now and then, the road shakes you up a bit before a smooth ride begins. 

Nobody likes to feel unappreciated after good cards have been dealt out of their very hands. 

I want to go home...it doesn't feel so lonesome when no one is around.