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Jo Baez Nov 2016
Woke up, it's 3am.
I'm half awake,
moonlight strings of light piercing through my window screen.
Walked towards the door,
the floor is cold, It creaks & sings haunting melodies as I trace way to the kitchen.
Open drawer, grasped a knife.
Took it and held it tight.
Slowly penetrated my left eye.
Blood pours down my face.
Lost sight of the demons holding me captive in my mind.
Jo Baez Nov 2016
I made something out of nothing.
Yet something doesn't seem to fill the nothing in my mind.
I've come to reason without reasonable explanations.
That terms died & facts burned.
I'm naturally a melancholy note ringing in dissonance through morbid melodies.
Jo Baez Nov 2016
Dilapidated at the age of 25.
This bed is my casket.
This room my tombstone.
Words, songs , & poems all written in my notebooks, form my epitaph.
You staring down at my body &
I never been so still in your eyes.
As you bleed from one eye.
You left the greatest love in that kiss on my cold lips.
Jo Baez Nov 2016
Image of a man denude
from the thorns of morals & virtues.
I hate myself more than I hate humanity.
Jo Baez Jun 2016
I had a one night stand with conditional love and that ended in a tragedy.
I've been flirting with romances for quite some time and that left me melancholily hollow.
I got caught on a fling by a romance based on lies and left holes in my brain.
Now I keep my eyes hidden, my ears muffled, and my mouth shut.
From coming in contact with unconditionally love.
I heard she was a sight for sore eyes  but I'm afraid to say.
I haven't met her yet.
Jo Baez Jun 2016
It's all in the tryst of our minds.
Where birth and death,
loved each other unconditionally.
Yet with scales on their eyes,
a condition remained.
One loved the other more than the other could give.
Jo Baez Jun 2016
This might sound asinine
but diagnose me.
I know there's no cure,
yet there has to be something you could prescribe to sooth this disease.
Make me your human project.
Save me from turning inside out.
I'm on my knees with my hands on my head.
I can feel my thoughts itching under my skin.
I'm scratching my temple down to my skull.
My fingers are breaking bone by bone.
I don't believe in hell but if I did.
I swear,
If I could give it my own redefinition, this life would be it.
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