I'm sitting here in the darkness, surrounded by the ghosts of my past. The weight of regret hangs heavy in the air, filling every empty space within me with a sense of despair that never seems to fade. I can hear their whispers, taunting me with memories I wish I could forget.
The Minister is out on another bender, drowning his sorrows in cheap whiskey and even cheaper women. Sometimes I envy him, his ability to numb himself to the pain that haunts us both. But then I remember that he's just as broken as I am, maybe even more so.
My mind drifts back to my childhood days, growing up in a house filled with madness and chaos. My parents were like two sides of the same twisted coin - one filled with rage and violence, the other lost in her own delusions. They shaped me into the man I am today - damaged goods beyond repair.
Music has always been my solace, my sanctuary from the demons that lurk within me. It's where I can pour out all my pain and suffering without fear of judgment or rejection. Those Poor Bastards are more than just a band to me; they're family in a world where blood ties mean nothing.
But sometimes even music isn't enough to drown out the echoes of regret that follow me wherever I go. The mistakes I've made weigh heavily on my soul like chains dragging me down into an abyss from which there is no escape.
I try to bury myself in work at Tribulation Recording Co., surrounding myself with monsters who understand what it means to be truly alone in this world. They don't judge or question; they simply exist alongside me in our shared misery.
And yet despite everything - all the pain and suffering that fills every fiber of my being - there remains a glimmer of hope deep within me. A tiny spark that refuses to be extinguished no matter how hard life tries to snuff it out.
So tonight as darkness falls once again over Madison Wisconsin, casting its shadow over this broken city full of broken souls like mine...I will raise my voice and sing until dawn breaks through these walls we've built around ourselves.