Dueces:

   Tonight, my body will burn.  Because this is the stake with which I'm tied.  I hate this life.



   Anxiety moved in.  I'm just it's housekeeper.

  And now all I want is to leave, and be in New York more than ever.  Blogging and taking pictures and living like I should be.  But it won't come, because it's not the right time.  Because I'm not living. But I'm not dead.  Purgatory. Eternal.  Dearest New York, forgive me.  I'm missing you so.  But I write you this letter from limbo. And I don't know how to get out.  Which fight is the good fight?  What the hell am I doing? And where the fuck am I in this grand scheme?  If this is living?  Hell can't be at all bad.  A vacation spot compared.  And All the while, I pretend pretend pretend.  Like a stupid little girl.

  The devil and god are raging inside me, and I don't know where to draw my sword or when to give in.  I'm losing a ridiculous fight.  I'll dig a grave for the life I'll never have.  My dream.

   One day I'll breathe again.  But smile, that may never come back. Really.