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Jo Baez Nov 2016
Tormented in storms by torments of thoughts.
Sail boat sails through waves of emotions.
Pushed by motions of relevance yet irrelevant notions.
I through eyes of floating corpses of personalities I hosted.
Drown thy boat with heavy feelings.
Sink, I sink, still breathing I lay at the bottom of the ocean.
Staring at rain, like falling bullets peircing still water.
Oppositions & contradictions synch in the sea.
Jo Baez Nov 2016
"Sailing ships never sink.
They just set out, out to sea.
I can feel you in the breeze.
I can hear you speak."

My ship sinks inside a half empty bottle of liquor.
Everything I love, everything I hate, became all the same.
If this has gotten the best of me where was I at my best?
I used to live life with a noose around my neck.
Now I live life hanging from its last thread.
Jo Baez Nov 2016
There's an ocean in my mind,
dissolving in dissonance.
As fragments of reminisce,
Stab me like knifes.
Lighthouse in my heart
started flickering,
the moment you set sail.
Jo Baez Nov 2016
Is there anything left of me?
I'm comfortably living dead
and when "I feel alive"
I feel nothing.
Is there anything to bring me back from this?
Got a noose tied to my tongue,
pulling lost words out my mouth.
Got a knot tied to my teeth,
pulling pain out of my gums.
I look at you & all I see is happiness on a price tag.
A bought life, I won't settle in the eyes of conformity by the hands of organize society.
Jo Baez Nov 2016
My love is not a hourglass.
If it depletes, I'll make it replenish.
I'll turn it upside down.
Love you some more till it breaks
and the last sand grain dissipates.
Jo Baez Nov 2016
Candles lit,
Counting down from six.
Blood spills down your mouth & through your teeth like a overflown dam with cracked walls.
Death breaths,
Counting down from five.
Blood runs like rivers down your ***** through open wounds & out your veins.
Death whistles,
Counting down to four.
Blood gathers upon your palms like rain puddles.
Death sings,
Counting down to three.
Blood falls like rain drops & tears off your fingers tips.
Death whispers,
Counting down to two.
Blood leaks down your ****.
Blood bleeds out your wound & I watch you aestheticly abort the love you cursed upon me.
Jo Baez Nov 2016
Went looking for the devil &
found myself staring at my own reflection.
What's it like to feel so alive on beliefs by the hands of converted faith.
I'm tired of fighting my own thoughts &
Fed up with always questioning everything that breaths.
Removed myself from my mind left me
happily resilient & vague.
Is this living or just existing?
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