Sunday

I always end up right here

Eyes translucent under the light, soul shifting around in my chest.
Doubt and regret pushing holes, creating sags,
facade stretched too thin over this insurmountable guilt.
I suppose I am healed now.
I can't help myself anymore than anyone else.
Forever ending up right here, pinned in someone's back seat.
Choked of innocence and disgusted with myself.
As always.