Teach me how to fall without failing. I want to taste the rain before it strikes me in the face. And even though it’s cold, it burns inside. And all my effort motivates me to find a release, but release is a funny word filled with its own questions and problems. If I become addicted to my new release, have I gained any ground or just fallen even further into the underlying problem? Sometimes, it’s better not to know. Nevertheless, I see pain, temptation, and lies, hypocrisy, the desire to kill, the desire to bear life into a cancerous battle ground, and all I want is a paper that tells me where to go, and a pen to discover a sound answer. That’s too much to ask for. That’s why I seem to die every day, then wake up to see a new problem next to the front door. I thought I locked it up, but people keep coming inside, mending their problems by asking questions that make me wonder where I stand. But by the time they leave, I have the same sin hidden under my belt. Drugs don’t bring me to a better place, suicide only makes me wonder why I live, and sex only makes me seek the drugs and suicide even more. When I die, I will die next to the church whore, living a double life, with needles in my arms, sounds too good to be true.