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.
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.
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.
There's a pond in the middle of my mind
Where I come to cast my thoughts
And lately I've felt like casting myself off
But I know mental suicide is just a cheap excuse for giving up
Dissolving in dissonance
As fragments of reminisce
stab me like needle pins
Afloat this pond of memories
Slowly drowning in its isolated depression of the
past, as the floodplains of the present drag me into the future
But it's all in my head,
So I'm casting off these corroding neurons, that make up these withered patterns of brain waves
To find myself floating again in this body of standing water
I artificially constructed out of pain.
You cut my fingers off
One by one, by one, by one
Till my hands were left
with nothing to hold
The moment you left
A dull embrace
Searching for relief at arms length
Trying to grasp clarity fingerless
A love like air.
I can't see it but I know when I think of you.
I can feel it and it's there.
I fell for it again
So here I am
Laying in bed
Why don't you love me?
Or did you love me at all?
Your love disguised in alibis
ramshackles my mind
I love you more than words could describe
I love you more than this world could understand
I fell for it again
So here I am
Writing you another poem
Feeling like a ghost
As you see right through me
As you walk right pass me
I fell for it again
And I've discovered a theory
I'm not afraid of heights
It's the impact that scares me
I fell for it again
Alessandra, I fell for you again.
I told myself I was meant for so much more.
But let's be honest... I knew words spoke louder than actions.
When my actions never made sense.
I'm still laying on the same bed with the same thoughts orbiting my brain.
Pain was my faith,
Pain was my answer to everything.
Pain helped me find the meanings of life,
Or so I thought...
Is this the truest reflection of who I am?
The masked face of my inner moralities escaping through my eyes.
Tied a noose to my limbs.
So I could outgrow this.
But it seems I've fallen short again.
My thoughts stopped visiting my brain.
My imagination got lost somewhere in the infinity of my aloneness but I don't feel loneliness.
I'm a walking comatose and I feel so futile, so deterrent of myself.
But I guess these feelings are inevitable.
Maybe I'm too afraid to sit in a sail boat without a paddle and drift into the sea.
Maybe the circumspec of my cowardliness, has dived so deep into the depths of mind.
I don't feel alive, I don't feel alone,
I don't feel numb anymore.
I used to believe that pain was the God of life.
For if pain didn't exist, I wouldn't know what being alive meant.
Not even if it shrunk into a tiny razor blade and cut an entrance on scars or scabs on my body.
To rediscover past wounds and lessons learned.
Just to make me feel humility or little more human.
Maybe I'm just caught in between that moment before unconsciousness strikes.
When the lack of oxygen slowly expires.
As you gasp for air and grasp for something to breath life back into your soul again.
I wrote merit words like "love, regret, hate, sorry"
Then it turned to short run-on sentences like" forgive me, I say sorry more than I mean it, I ******* hate you, "on black & blue balloons. I tied them to your limbs to keep you balanced.
But one day I came back to cut the strings and as I they flew through a sea like sky.
I realized I can't take them back now.
I have to be honest with myself
I'll never live up to my old man's expectations
I'll never be my mother's pride or joy
I'm the ******* son,
the one who made the choice...
I made a choice to follow my hopes and dreams
Against all odds and every struggles life throws at me
because it's so easy to give up and it's so easy to fail yourself
I won't fail myself
I won't give up
Passion is all I have
Is what keeps me alive fighting for what I believe in
If I could cut open your mouth
& make you stomach my thoughts
Would trust bloom like flowers from your throat & out your lips?
I awoke covered in autumn leaves under a dying tree.
A dead cold breeze flees & returns through out me.
As if I had holes in my body & the wind doesn't acknowledge me.
Melancholy fog shelters this cemetery
While I lay here, my face against the graveyard grass.
My head tilted to the right, staring at written dates on tombstones without engraved epitaphs.
There lays the buried graves of my past selfs
They say that love makes you feel butterflies.
So I cut open my stomach to set them free.
I watched them spontaneously combust.
Like moths to flames
Flocking around, ignited,
Counting down from six.
Blood spills down your mouth & through your teeth like a overflown dam with cracked walls.
Counting down from five.
Blood runs like rivers down your ***** through open wounds & out your veins.
Counting down to four.
Blood gathers upon your palms like rain puddles.
Counting down to three.
Blood falls like rain drops & tears off your fingers tips.
Counting down to two.
Blood leaks down your ****.
Blood bleeds out your wound & I watch you aestheticly abort the love you cursed upon me.
Maybe I sacrificed too many parts of myself for your ritual.
You ate all of my flesh and everything I had left to give.
Maybe I fed you the wrong body parts.
Maybe I fed you the wrong skin.
Now I'm dead living or half alive somewhere inside you.
Until you digest me in a year or two.
Maybe if you cut open your head and perfomed surgery on your brain.
You would find me swimming in the deepest corners of your mind or consciousness but we both know that's fictional.
We live In a balance we cannot maintain
A cycle of despair and pain
In a world where a moment of peace can't exist without war
And Love without hate
Overwhelm by the struggle in our life's and the loneliness in our minds
Some are content and some are satisfied
Still we carry on
Comfort was sitting outside my apartment stairs
At 2 a.m
In the dead cold weather
As I blew my warm breath into the air
Mimicking the actions of smoking a cigarette
While you cuddled next to me
Comfort was humming my thoughts out
As I unraveled
While I sat outside my apartments stairs
At 3 a.m
And you came and sat next to me
Comfort died two weeks ago
outside my apartment stairs
On a cold Wednesday night
Comfort lived in a tiny feline body
Comfort had a name, his name was No Face
Why is it that at the end of every sentence I write.
There's a man with a knife piercing it's blade into the back of my brain.
My mind feels colder this year.
Minutes die faster but hours live longer.
Half-empty water bottles like my goals scattered across my room.
I wrapped a noose around concequences neck and kicked the chair he stood on.
I watched his legs dangle like dancing ballerinas on top of a frozen creek.
His face went colorless.
Then I buried him beneath my bed.
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.
I drove into a daydream.
My vehicle collided with a tree.
It rained leaves, as the blood pour down like a river down my teeth.
I felt so alive, I embodied pain and agony, aching agony.
Leafs fell in slow motion as I buried the metal carcass into the roots of Mother Nature.
Oil ignited into flames and I caught fire that day.
Cauterized under the stress of my life.
These walls are paper thin.
I can hear faint arguments,
Fathers a democrat, & mothers a republican.
Voices get lost in the distance of my mind.
I picked up a pen,
walked up to my father, cut open his stomach, & wrote obstinate on his liver. Then I walked towards my mother, slit open her chest, & wrote sadness on her tacit heart.
I proceeded into my little sisters room, carefully removed her ears, & wrote Innocence across her tiny eye lids.
Midway distance between my room &
the front door to the outside world.
I got lost again, roaming in my head for the third time that day.
Found my way unto my bed.
I layed down to closed my eyes and woke up to a new day.
Yet the same sounds again.
I've been holding dear to the idea. That everything I hold dear doesn't last.
I'm like a vacuous worm laying in bed
Watching myself impassively rot
from the inside out.
My books are collecting dust of life's are no longer live.
My chairs accumulating clothes of personalities I no longer wear.
I'm holding my unresponsive eyes in my hands, I feel blind, I can't see my wood floors.
It's covered in inscrutable ideas, on blank pages, ripped out of my notebook.
Ink spills but nothing's written
Inspirations, emotions, and feelings are lost somewhere within the air.
But I can't inhale the oxygen they contain.
My eyes try to peer a view of the world
through ***** curtain cracks.
Im tired of staring at the ceiling.
I turn my head left to stare at the chipped painted walls.
Simple words splattered in color crow black of all the humanly advice I've ever heard.
Yet it doesn't resonate inside of me.
I turn my head right to stare at the wall peeling like my thoughts trying to crawl out of my brain.
how vacant this room feels;ghost memories fill the emptiness inside this empty space.
when I have everything I ever wanted to make me feel alive Inside here, or so I thought?
"Where lies the beauty in being buried alive"
And I responded
"I don't belong here anymore"
Struggling to keep myself intact
like my fingernails being bend back till they snap.
As I watch a detritus love deteriorate, in a gradually decomposing disintegrating way, and perish like it never existed in the first place.
Like trying to constantly feed life into the lifeless with any kind of progress.
My teeth are corroding from all the words stuck in my mouth
I fell off my bed, crawling on top of wordless pages.
Dragging myself across what seems to feel like a hollow abyss, with a floor made out of hands filled with thorns.
Trying to find peace inside the hollow selfishness of my psychotic Self implanted misery.
And through my rebirth of dead departures of selves
I found God in myself....
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.
If I could give it my own redefinition, this life would be it.
I was never one to stay in one place for more than one day.
But I've been sitting on this bench for quite a while.
Rotting out as the seasons change for almost a year. Observing my life, analyzing the world with my pupils not my mind.
Withered & bloomed inside of me like a garden of suicidal flowers.
I take one last look at this life.
I put the gun in my mouth.
I can taste the hollow steel
& before I could smell the gun powder,
I pulled the trigger on the past.
I awoke in the present
but the future still seems to have it's hands wrapped around my throat.
They say that time waits for no one
but time has been waiting at my front door long enough.
I keep asking for death but I keep waking up.
Sun hasn't shun in here.
Since I dragged the moon inside my room.
Rain never goes away and I've grown to love the beauty of pain.
I broke the glass and tore the window screen.
I'm standing on the edge staring down at dying, dead roses,
growing from the cracks of the concrete floor.
I keep trying to sell my soul but i can't find a client.
Come shove me over the edge.
Watch me float like a feather,
and kiss the pavement.
Save me, I feel so doomed.
If I could dream of any dream at night.
What would I dream of?
I would dream of waking up after dying.
What a dream that would be.
I woke up in a dream,
from a dream,
where I dreamt I had died.
I felt free.
I was air.
I was water.
I had no body, no soul, & no mind.
I felt alive & then I woke up, feeling dead.
If you were drowning.
I swear that I would dive right in and drown with you.
Heaven & hell faded from my conscious.
Wake me up,
for I've been dead for years.
She danced her way inside my comatose.
She sings "the meaning of death " she sings "is the value of life"
Do you stare out the window
at passing crows.
As they fly north,
Taking your dreams with them.
Do you stare at old pictures, reminiscing.
Wondering where your hopes went.
They became congualated in picture frames.
Do you drown yourself in alcohol and dig your own grave.
You're a hardworking man
And your elixir is home.
Just let go of the drunken hate.
Do you stay at home and let the years leaf you by.
You have a life to live, you had love to spread, and give.
We became leafs blowing in the wind
With no direction.
It's sad to say,
comforts become our family tradition. Conformity slowly killed our pride and foundation.
Buried in crow feathers, the Devils in their eyes & he fed me
I'm disconnected, as I stare into the blood scarlet sky.
Filled with black splatter paint brushed birds.
One by one dove down to peck at my flesh & take a piece of my wings.
One by one dove down to peck at my bones & take a piece of my limbs.
Wings made of corroding, sweet memories, keep growing back out of misery to feed reality.
I don't want this feeling to die.
if it's temporary, I promise love will cut out temporaries heart and longevity will take its place.
I cut into his limbs to find the weight of the hold.
Carved negatives into his back to find a positive outcome.
I held a gun to his thoughts
As his brain fed on a taste of fiction.
Falling in & out of love with you
Is a lot like walking into a library...
I'll let the readers give their own definition, idea, poetic thoughts, to complete the poem. "To Each Their Own"
I dissected the pieces of your heart that built the home you placed me in when you said
"I love you and you'll have always have a place in my heart"
and stitched them to your wrist
So every time you think of me
You can cut yourself and I hope you reach your veins
Blood mixed in purposely thought out alibis is all I see
Spilling, dripping, down your fingertips
As I hold out my tongue
To taste the truth you bleed
I clipped the silhouetted feathers off a crows wings and stitched them to your back.
So you can fly to heaven.
Heavens in my thoughts, my words, my mind.
It's where I keep you alive.
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.
I stopped having nightmares & started daydreaming.
As I stepped off the ledge to fall head first into this dormant abyss.
Lucky me, I ate black bird feathers, and started growing wings.
It's easier done than said.
I woke up to a stranger to myself.
Like riddles in form of DNA strands.
My thoughts shape shifting.
so I never know what to say when someone starts to ask
"How you been"
I bit the idea of love too close to comfort.
You made me feel human pain again.
A lot like the love life and death held together.
If the ghost of Sylvia Plath
would haunt my mind
Inspiration would ignite
like the strike of a match upon
the lips of a cigarette
I've disconnected myself from reality.
I'm walking on scarlet skies and these clouds seem to hold me upright.
My skins peeling like falling rain.
My hands feel fictional because I don't feel the weight of anything.
I can see the world decaying from this inverted state.
I said I could be the most neutral person in the world but jealousy, uncertainty , insecurity, will always come unexpectedly, and naturally.
I said "it's not that I don't trust you.
I just won't ever sink my teeth into the idea.
That I found a person that made me feel like I'm floating on water."
And the thought of her finding better or deserving greater.
Will always come as an itch in my brain,
that I cannot scratch.
If letting go makes me feel like a bad person
If moving on makes me feel angst in my veins
If saying I love you & farewell
Make me feel guilty
& it spreads through my body like cancer
Then I wonder if cheating ever made you feel like a filthy ******* human being
Lately I've felt like
I been swimming in the sky
Confused & emotionless
While the ocean cries upwards in my direction
Yet for some odd reason
every tiny water drop has been avoiding me
& I'm completely soaked in some sort of complex melancholy
Love & hatred gave birth to her
Envy & anger consumed her
Betrayal & jealousy perfumed her
wrapped in a dress made of irony
*Disarrayed strands of hair fell upon her resentful & suffering eyes
She was a complexity of passionate human emotions thrown into disorder
But she was beautiful like the unfurling of scattered cherry blossoms blooming in winter.
Poem off my book of poems
titled "Letters to Hannya"
Life feels like playing an acoustic guitar with papercuts on my fingertips
These greedy leviathans in ties, & business suits. Sitting behind fancy office tables & tinted windows, salivate over the noose they placed upon my neck.
& if I stay here any longer
I'll become an after image of the image they portray.
As I walk through these corridors
I can't help but feel asphyxiated
as the noose tightens around my neck.
Reminding me that I've normalize the idea of my humanity.
I belittled myself the day I signed up for slavery & a check that spells"battered soul" within minimum wage words. & through the mist of my frustrations
I've realized comfort was my only enemy.
I slit all my love ones throats and hung them by their necks on my ceiling.
I store their voices inside music boxes spread across my room.
Here's where past and present make love and gave birth to future...
Advice, screaming out my name.
Slice of life lessons, yelling trying to get my attention.
But I met death before I could hear my love ones sing me melodies of morality.
Death placed deaf's knife in my hands and said
"live like your dead"
As she cut my ears off and everything went....