I'm not staying,
it's my blame.
I'll leave the innocent;
I'm not the same.
I've got blood on my hands.
Pressure to understand.
You're right.
You've always been.
I tend to forget.
I won't bother you,
still my existence bothers me.
My mind smothers me.
The nights scare me;
comfort is scarce.
The dark makes things worse,
and this silence hurts.
It can be so loud,
the noise of nothing.
The sounds of your thoughts,
utterly isolated.
I love y'all;
but I don't love myself
I can't live up to what you all think of me-

My visuals are out to get me,
Drive in front and claim the safety.
Pull a map and divise a route,
To keep me from my- too loud. too loud.
You take the wheel,
I'll fake a path.
The road divides us
From future and past.
I wanna drive back,
until then i will roam.
the seats of tanned memories,
remind me of home-

I'm emotionally detached,
in twenty nine days ninety panic attacks,
I see through your eyes,
straight to your past,
the times that you meant it when you really laughed.
Your crescents hate light,
and descend through the day,
I'm deciding my mind between painful and sane,
dividing a line between not okay and opaque.
I know my life's doubtful,
more mournful than most.
Lost in translation as feeling the least,
a leash on my brain and one sense of release.
I wanna meet sharpness to puncture my breath,
rather than losses I can't reconnect-

If I could mount that rock to my forehead,
the demons I'm fighting would finally go.
I know the risks of one last blow.
Visibility is prevented from me, by me, divided.
I choose sadness because it was all i ever felt.
This plateau of emotion will eventually
**** me-

The attic attacks me, won't back
me up in fights with my heart.
Dust will conclude how long I've
been afraid, cleaned for the
dusk; I don't know my name.
Wading in rivers for its own trade,
confront the buyer at higher
stakes than the owner, lower I fall.
"Tone down the pain" mediocre
control over what I am and
what I will become, my thumbs
pricked for another accusation.
I'll discuss my problems only the
world can understand, privated
and classified; I am just a man.
I am just a boy, and these passages
aren't used to show how much
better I've gotten, only if I say I do.
These words and all the strings
of things I can collect, are something
much more deep than you'll ever comprehend.
you believe I am recovering,
because that's all you're allowed to see.
Can't you sense the great dispense
that one day I'll look up from your feet?

I'm really not who I thought I was,
how do you move on with life
when you place it to pause?
I am the boss to my own mind,
but cower at each door it confines,
to condone the person I could be and
wrong the person I wish I was,
I'm the boss of my own mind
but a slave to what it does.
Died to a coward that
hides behind demands,
and the density of this reality is
what weighs my bones down,
some of you know what this is now.
What it means to be shackled
to what you hate,
here have a go at the scariest
things your head can make.
The thoughts that break
your heart but tell it to go
faster,
faster,
faster....
Running after something
you'll never reach,
and as I'm running forever
I can't move my feet
off this bed,
inside my head I'm growing tired,
so my eyes will never open;
and I'm hoping you know that I fear
when I get older my memories will wake
and it'll take me,
too late to save me.
Why bother even
waiting?

His fingertips are doused in gasoline,
setting fire to everything he sees.
Each object he touches,
all the memories collected,
ash away and fall to crimes.
He's got eternal flames inside him,
and yet his eyes remain dimmed and submissive.
He's fragile and fractured,
and as his last heart string crackled,
you could see the hope unlit.
Fires and unsettling demons
are all he even seems to remember.
He might try and set his body ablaze,
to calmly dry off that crying pain,
sadly sticks and stones withhold his embers.
He won't die, but he can't learn,
the anguish manipulated to feed a burn.
His life was hanging in a balance of dry anger,
rather the deployment of washing hurt again,
he thought would dehydrate its annual return-

Pines littered my unlively heart, once a rooted place; with branches of family, sprouts nothing more than unwanted pain.
Trees filtered the rain and hale, marching upon my veins; leaves wither now, roaming a terrain of deserts and unanswered lies.
Tumbleweeds, each one of a kind, bellow in the wind that dried my brain, refraining the saplings from hope, holes built in my body for no other process than causing emptiness, a sense of memory that was once before.
Not anymore, I feel nothing.
I do nothing.
I am nothing.
I'm inhumane, unwillingly walking to the past; lurking from the windows, one broken and one stained, I know now that my hurt was never tamed.
It just laid,  pulsing through my feet; hiding as I am now, you hear a sound from outside, a purposeful blow from the wind.
There goes my brain.
There goes my pain.
Goodbye-

He slipped too many times for it to be accidental,
Gurgling underwater; and sinking from the vessel.
He too, had supplied the deaths aboard the deck,
Where drowning and breath paddled; all atop his neck.
Do you know his struggle, until you've met the sea?
Where fish swim past on their way, and you clamber just to breathe.
Sputtering on bubbles, his exhaling's a crusade,
But please don't feel bad for him, that's just an average day-

He's not what you think,
And he pretends you know.
The more he confiscates the worry,
The more it seems to show.
He's walking around the lies,
As they pile against his skin.
So at night; he'll break the doors,
And flood out what's within.
Pressing the lock into his throat,
He glides the key straight to his heart.
Stop the plane in his head,
Before it can depart.
He's convinced this plain is unwelcome,
Underlying a helpless glow.
This seed planted inside him,
fixes fears no one truly knows-