damaged goods

intoxicated
on fear and bad memories...
I don't know my heart
from a hole in the ground.
It's hard to be whole
when you fear the empty spaces
and voids,
pulsing like an absess.
sometimes I feel I am burried in nothing.
i just want to be even, so I can get used to one thing...
there's a strange comfort in it,
the loneliness... a strange familiarity.