I am brought to tears by the end of this poem. Every time.
There’s so much pain, ya know? There’s so much…and there’s something about all that blood; I drown in it.
"Something else is hurting you — that’s why you need pot or whiskey, or whips and rubber suits, or screaming music turned so fucking loud you can’t think."
whose arms would I run and fall into
if I were drunk
in a room with everyone
I have ever loved."
— Thich Nhat Hanh