Hysterical letters to my sanity

There was no future for the lost

there was no future for the lost
they stayed in cracky hotels that had dim lights and broken ice machines.
she had bruises that tattooed around her own tattoos like almost artwork.
she had no family
no one to call home
and he didn't care who saw anymore
there was so so much rage and fury
pure burning anger just steaming off of him every second
there was never a time of calm for him
he left her alone most nights
she would sit on the crappy balconies with baseheads looming under searching for their fix
she would smoke shitty cigarettes that still left her craving more
more of everything and nothing
more emotion but less anger
more feeling in her toes
she would rest her head on the cold railing and close her eyes
she would dream she was on a beach somewhere and this cool railing was a fresh towel someone had fetched her
and her warm beers were sweet drinks with half a fucking fruit salad on the side of the glass.
she would dream that the sirens were the sounds of waves
that her future could be on that hot paradise
and she would forget
how lost she truly was