empty stomaches/busy heads

I guess he became used to the faint smell of dark coffee and cigarettes as it rolled off my tongue somewhere in between our empty small talk 

It almost felt as forced as the fake smile after my now repeated anthem of "I'm fine."

My relentless cries are salted over my desolate attempts of normalcy 

My thoughts occupy my room as much the half empty water bottles and pill capsules do

I could feel remorse scraping against the muscles in my cheeks in attempt to recall the motion of a smile 

I can remember the taste of my last meal, yet cannot recall the comfort in a true smile 

Why did they never advertise this life with all the tormenting pain that soon becomes the only solid company I have

They told me not to be scared, this was normal, this was fun

And that's the part they didn't get, I wasn't scared of the drugs, I was scared of my darkest demons who soon became my only consistent friends 

They indulged in my vulnerability

They loved to be fed and when they weren't they ached louder than my now muted conscience 

-C.C.