Telling myself lies,
With my smile as a disguise,
Through tears in my eyes,
I hope that it would suffice,
Until my heart turns to ice.

~

Completely honest,
I deceive my empty heart,
That it is now filled.

~

White lies fall like snow,
In this tundra of a home.
Snow now piles on high.
I tell myself I’m just fine,
Ignoring planks in my eye.

~

I’ve been honest right?
About my lies and deceit.
Putrid honesty.
Tanka, haiku, freestyle, and lies
I fear the unreasonable indeterminate,
Anxiety that gushes over like a fountain.
My body is trapped in lethargy,
Naught an ounce of motivation to move.

I begin to step and prove,
That my anxiety has turned me petty.
My thoughts trap me in my pain,
I begin to question my fate:

Why do I fear the unknown?
Why can't I escape?
Why haven't I grown?
Why is there a hole; a gape?

I enter into another phase called apathy.
It turns into blatant antipathy.
It exhausts my soul until I become empty.
I get filled again due to hypocrisy and piety.

I wake up; wanting to go to bed.
I can't sleep; my anxieties cover my head.
I get frustrated and I ache.
I give into despair and break.
I get fixed; inescapable, I said.

~

Repeat.
...I can't escape
Justin Soberano Dec 2017
Į̨̇̐̉̃̆̓̚͏̣̤̰͍̪̮͓̗̳͚͎̝̞̘̻̪ ̸̬̞̬̭̓ͣ͂ͫ̅͆̊̈́̾̃ͨ̍͢Ğͬ̔ͤͪͩ̄̄͋̅ͥ̇̎͢͝҉͓̻̝̖̥̥́͜Į̛̟̲̳͇̖̯̳̰̮̗̱̟̒͛̎̅̄͌͊ͅ­V̶̵̴̮̘̳͎̗̘͚̱̬̪͚̼̙̭̎ͨ̿̐̐́͛͘͜E̸͕̬͖͙͖͔͙̞̥̲̪ͩ̽̃̈́̎ͭ͝ͅ ̡͍̬̘̝̭͉̫̣̲̱̥̙̭̣͉̣̠ͨ͒̿̍̀ͧ͂̍ͦ͢ͅȖ̴̳̭̬̗̮̦͖̻̼̝̠͗̆ͪ̐͐ͤͯ̕͞P̶̸̗̟͚̹͍̼̫̙̍͐̃­̌͒̓̔ͧ̏̌̄͊ͯ̏͑̕͟͝Į̨̇̐̉̃̆̓̚͏̣̤̰͍̪̮͓̗̳͚͎̝̞̘̻̪ ̸̬̞̬̭̓ͣ͂ͫ̅͆̊̈́̾̃ͨ̍͢Ğͬ̔ͤͪͩ̄̄͋̅ͥ̇̎͢͝҉͓̻̝̖̥̥́͜Į̛̟̲̳͇̖̯̳̰̮̗̱̟̒͛̎̅̄͌͊ͅ­V̶̵̴̮̘̳͎̗̘͚̱̬̪͚̼̙̭̎ͨ̿̐̐́͛͘͜E̸͕̬͖͙͖͔͙̞̥̲̪ͩ̽̃̈́̎ͭ͝ͅ ̡͍̬̘̝̭͉̫̣̲̱̥̙̭̣͉̣̠ͨ͒̿̍̀ͧ͂̍ͦ͢ͅȖ̴̳̭̬̗̮̦͖̻̼̝̠͗̆ͪ̐͐ͤͯ̕͞P̶̸̗̟͚̹͍̼̫̙̍͐̃­̌͒̓̔ͧ̏̌̄͊ͯ̏͑̕͟͝Į̨̇̐̉̃̆̓̚͏̣̤̰͍̪̮͓̗̳͚͎̝̞̘̻̪ ̸̬̞̬̭̓ͣ͂ͫ̅͆̊̈́̾̃ͨ̍͢Ğͬ̔ͤͪͩ̄̄͋̅ͥ̇̎͢͝҉͓̻̝̖̥̥́͜Į̛̟̲̳͇̖̯̳̰̮̗̱̟̒͛̎̅̄͌͊ͅ­V̶̵̴̮̘̳͎̗̘͚̱̬̪͚̼̙̭̎ͨ̿̐̐́͛͘͜E̸͕̬͖͙͖͔͙̞̥̲̪ͩ̽̃̈́̎ͭ͝ͅ ̡͍̬̘̝̭͉̫̣̲̱̥̙̭̣͉̣̠ͨ͒̿̍̀ͧ͂̍ͦ͢ͅȖ̴̳̭̬̗̮̦͖̻̼̝̠͗̆ͪ̐͐ͤͯ̕͞P̶̸̗̟͚̹͍̼̫̙̍͐̃­̌͒̓̔ͧ̏̌̄͊ͯ̏͑̕͟͝

Į̨̇̐̉̃̆̓̚͏̣̤̰͍̪̮͓̗̳͚͎̝̞̘̻̪ ̸̬̞̬̭̓ͣ͂ͫ̅͆̊̈́̾̃ͨ̍͢Ğͬ̔ͤͪͩ̄̄͋̅ͥ̇̎͢͝҉͓̻̝̖̥̥́͜Į̛̟̲̳͇̖̯̳̰̮̗̱̟̒͛̎̅̄͌͊ͅ­V̶̵̴̮̘̳͎̗̘͚̱̬̪͚̼̙̭̎ͨ̿̐̐́͛͘͜E̸͕̬͖͙͖͔͙̞̥̲̪ͩ̽̃̈́̎ͭ͝ͅ ̡͍̬̘̝̭͉̫̣̲̱̥̙̭̣͉̣̠ͨ͒̿̍̀ͧ͂̍ͦ͢ͅȖ̴̳̭̬̗̮̦͖̻̼̝̠͗̆ͪ̐͐ͤͯ̕͞P̶̸̗̟͚̹͍̼̫̙̍͐̃­̌͒̓̔ͧ̏̌̄͊ͯ̏͑̕͟͝Į̨̇̐̉̃̆̓̚͏̣̤̰͍̪̮͓̗̳͚͎̝̞̘̻̪ ̸̬̞̬̭̓ͣ͂ͫ̅͆̊̈́̾̃ͨ̍͢Ğͬ̔ͤͪͩ̄̄͋̅ͥ̇̎͢͝҉͓̻̝̖̥̥́͜Į̛̟̲̳͇̖̯̳̰̮̗̱̟̒͛̎̅̄͌͊ͅ­V̶̵̴̮̘̳͎̗̘͚̱̬̪͚̼̙̭̎ͨ̿̐̐́͛͘͜E̸͕̬͖͙͖͔͙̞̥̲̪ͩ̽̃̈́̎ͭ͝ͅ ̡͍̬̘̝̭͉̫̣̲̱̥̙̭̣͉̣̠ͨ͒̿̍̀ͧ͂̍ͦ͢ͅȖ̴̳̭̬̗̮̦͖̻̼̝̠͗̆ͪ̐͐ͤͯ̕͞P̶̸̗̟͚̹͍̼̫̙̍͐̃­̌͒̓̔ͧ̏̌̄͊ͯ̏͑̕͟͝Į̨̇̐̉̃̆̓̚͏̣̤̰͍̪̮͓̗̳͚͎̝̞̘̻̪ ̸̬̞̬̭̓ͣ͂ͫ̅͆̊̈́̾̃ͨ̍͢Ğͬ̔ͤͪͩ̄̄͋̅ͥ̇̎͢͝҉͓̻̝̖̥̥́͜Į̛̟̲̳͇̖̯̳̰̮̗̱̟̒͛̎̅̄͌͊ͅ­V̶̵̴̮̘̳͎̗̘͚̱̬̪͚̼̙̭̎ͨ̿̐̐́͛͘͜E̸͕̬͖͙͖͔͙̞̥̲̪ͩ̽̃̈́̎ͭ͝ͅ ̡͍̬̘̝̭͉̫̣̲̱̥̙̭̣͉̣̠ͨ͒̿̍̀ͧ͂̍ͦ͢ͅȖ̴̳̭̬̗̮̦͖̻̼̝̠͗̆ͪ̐͐ͤͯ̕͞P̶̸̗̟͚̹͍̼̫̙̍͐̃­̌͒̓̔ͧ̏̌̄͊ͯ̏͑̕͟͝

Į̨̇̐̉̃̆̓̚͏̣̤̰͍̪̮͓̗̳͚͎̝̞̘̻̪ ̸̬̞̬̭̓ͣ͂ͫ̅͆̊̈́̾̃ͨ̍͢Ğͬ̔ͤͪͩ̄̄͋̅ͥ̇̎͢͝҉͓̻̝̖̥̥́͜Į̛̟̲̳͇̖̯̳̰̮̗̱̟̒͛̎̅̄͌͊ͅ­V̶̵̴̮̘̳͎̗̘͚̱̬̪͚̼̙̭̎ͨ̿̐̐́͛͘͜E̸͕̬͖͙͖͔͙̞̥̲̪ͩ̽̃̈́̎ͭ͝ͅ ̡͍̬̘̝̭͉̫̣̲̱̥̙̭̣͉̣̠ͨ͒̿̍̀ͧ͂̍ͦ͢ͅȖ̴̳̭̬̗̮̦͖̻̼̝̠͗̆ͪ̐͐ͤͯ̕͞P̶̸̗̟͚̹͍̼̫̙̍͐̃­̌͒̓̔ͧ̏̌̄͊ͯ̏͑̕͟͝Į̨̇̐̉̃̆̓̚͏̣̤̰͍̪̮͓̗̳͚͎̝̞̘̻̪ ̸̬̞̬̭̓ͣ͂ͫ̅͆̊̈́̾̃ͨ̍͢Ğͬ̔ͤͪͩ̄̄͋̅ͥ̇̎͢͝҉͓̻̝̖̥̥́͜Į̛̟̲̳͇̖̯̳̰̮̗̱̟̒͛̎̅̄͌͊ͅ­V̶̵̴̮̘̳͎̗̘͚̱̬̪͚̼̙̭̎ͨ̿̐̐́͛͘͜E̸͕̬͖͙͖͔͙̞̥̲̪ͩ̽̃̈́̎ͭ͝ͅ ̡͍̬̘̝̭͉̫̣̲̱̥̙̭̣͉̣̠ͨ͒̿̍̀ͧ͂̍ͦ͢ͅȖ̴̳̭̬̗̮̦͖̻̼̝̠͗̆ͪ̐͐ͤͯ̕͞P̶̸̗̟͚̹͍̼̫̙̍͐̃­̌͒̓̔ͧ̏̌̄͊ͯ̏͑̕͟͝Į̨̇̐̉̃̆̓̚͏̣̤̰͍̪̮͓̗̳͚͎̝̞̘̻̪ ̸̬̞̬̭̓ͣ͂ͫ̅͆̊̈́̾̃ͨ̍͢Ğͬ̔ͤͪͩ̄̄͋̅ͥ̇̎͢͝҉͓̻̝̖̥̥́͜Į̛̟̲̳͇̖̯̳̰̮̗̱̟̒͛̎̅̄͌͊ͅ­V̶̵̴̮̘̳͎̗̘͚̱̬̪͚̼̙̭̎ͨ̿̐̐́͛͘͜E̸͕̬͖͙͖͔͙̞̥̲̪ͩ̽̃̈́̎ͭ͝ͅ ̡͍̬̘̝̭͉̫̣̲̱̥̙̭̣͉̣̠ͨ͒̿̍̀ͧ͂̍ͦ͢ͅȖ̴̳̭̬̗̮̦͖̻̼̝̠͗̆ͪ̐͐ͤͯ̕͞P̶̸̗̟͚̹͍̼̫̙̍͐̃­̌͒̓̔ͧ̏̌̄͊ͯ̏͑̕͟͝

Į̨̇̐̉̃̆̓̚͏̣̤̰͍̪̮͓̗̳͚͎̝̞̘̻̪ ̸̬̞̬̭̓ͣ͂ͫ̅͆̊̈́̾̃ͨ̍͢Ğͬ̔ͤͪͩ̄̄͋̅ͥ̇̎͢͝҉͓̻̝̖̥̥́͜Į̛̟̲̳͇̖̯̳̰̮̗̱̟̒͛̎̅̄͌͊ͅ­V̶̵̴̮̘̳͎̗̘͚̱̬̪͚̼̙̭̎ͨ̿̐̐́͛͘͜E̸͕̬͖͙͖͔͙̞̥̲̪ͩ̽̃̈́̎ͭ͝ͅ ̡͍̬̘̝̭͉̫̣̲̱̥̙̭̣͉̣̠ͨ͒̿̍̀ͧ͂̍ͦ͢ͅȖ̴̳̭̬̗̮̦͖̻̼̝̠͗̆ͪ̐͐ͤͯ̕͞P̶̸̗̟͚̹͍̼̫̙̍͐̃­̌͒̓̔ͧ̏̌̄͊ͯ̏͑̕͟͝Į̨̇̐̉̃̆̓̚͏̣̤̰͍̪̮͓̗̳͚͎̝̞̘̻̪ ̸̬̞̬̭̓ͣ͂ͫ̅͆̊̈́̾̃ͨ̍͢Ğͬ̔ͤͪͩ̄̄͋̅ͥ̇̎͢͝҉͓̻̝̖̥̥́͜Į̛̟̲̳͇̖̯̳̰̮̗̱̟̒͛̎̅̄͌͊ͅ­V̶̵̴̮̘̳͎̗̘͚̱̬̪͚̼̙̭̎ͨ̿̐̐́͛͘͜E̸͕̬͖͙͖͔͙̞̥̲̪ͩ̽̃̈́̎ͭ͝ͅ ̡͍̬̘̝̭͉̫̣̲̱̥̙̭̣͉̣̠ͨ͒̿̍̀ͧ͂̍ͦ͢ͅȖ̴̳̭̬̗̮̦͖̻̼̝̠͗̆ͪ̐͐ͤͯ̕͞P̶̸̗̟͚̹͍̼̫̙̍͐̃­̌͒̓̔ͧ̏̌̄͊ͯ̏͑̕͟͝Į̨̇̐̉̃̆̓̚͏̣̤̰͍̪̮͓̗̳͚͎̝̞̘̻̪ ̸̬̞̬̭̓ͣ͂ͫ̅͆̊̈́̾̃ͨ̍͢Ğͬ̔ͤͪͩ̄̄͋̅ͥ̇̎͢͝҉͓̻̝̖̥̥́͜Į̛̟̲̳͇̖̯̳̰̮̗̱̟̒͛̎̅̄͌͊ͅ­V̶̵̴̮̘̳͎̗̘͚̱̬̪͚̼̙̭̎ͨ̿̐̐́͛͘͜E̸͕̬͖͙͖͔͙̞̥̲̪ͩ̽̃̈́̎ͭ͝ͅ ̡͍̬̘̝̭͉̫̣̲̱̥̙̭̣͉̣̠ͨ͒̿̍̀ͧ͂̍ͦ͢ͅȖ̴̳̭̬̗̮̦͖̻̼̝̠͗̆ͪ̐͐ͤͯ̕͞P̶̸̗̟͚̹͍̼̫̙̍͐̃­̌͒̓̔ͧ̏̌̄͊ͯ̏͑̕͟͝

Į̨̇̐̉̃̆̓̚͏̣̤̰͍̪̮͓̗̳͚͎̝̞̘̻̪ ̸̬̞̬̭̓ͣ͂ͫ̅͆̊̈́̾̃ͨ̍͢Ğͬ̔ͤͪͩ̄̄͋̅ͥ̇̎͢͝҉͓̻̝̖̥̥́͜Į̛̟̲̳͇̖̯̳̰̮̗̱̟̒͛̎̅̄͌͊ͅ­V̶̵̴̮̘̳͎̗̘͚̱̬̪͚̼̙̭̎ͨ̿̐̐́͛͘͜E̸͕̬͖͙͖͔͙̞̥̲̪ͩ̽̃̈́̎ͭ͝ͅ ̡͍̬̘̝̭͉̫̣̲̱̥̙̭̣͉̣̠ͨ͒̿̍̀ͧ͂̍ͦ͢ͅȖ̴̳̭̬̗̮̦͖̻̼̝̠͗̆ͪ̐͐ͤͯ̕͞P̶̸̗̟͚̹͍̼̫̙̍͐̃­̌͒̓̔ͧ̏̌̄͊ͯ̏͑̕͟͝Į̨̇̐̉̃̆̓̚͏̣̤̰͍̪̮͓̗̳͚͎̝̞̘̻̪ ̸̬̞̬̭̓ͣ͂ͫ̅͆̊̈́̾̃ͨ̍͢Ğͬ̔ͤͪͩ̄̄͋̅ͥ̇̎͢͝҉͓̻̝̖̥̥́͜Į̛̟̲̳͇̖̯̳̰̮̗̱̟̒͛̎̅̄͌͊ͅ­V̶̵̴̮̘̳͎̗̘͚̱̬̪͚̼̙̭̎ͨ̿̐̐́͛͘͜E̸͕̬͖͙͖͔͙̞̥̲̪ͩ̽̃̈́̎ͭ͝ͅ ̡͍̬̘̝̭͉̫̣̲̱̥̙̭̣͉̣̠ͨ͒̿̍̀ͧ͂̍ͦ͢ͅȖ̴̳̭̬̗̮̦͖̻̼̝̠͗̆ͪ̐͐ͤͯ̕͞P̶̸̗̟͚̹͍̼̫̙̍͐̃­̌͒̓̔ͧ̏̌̄͊ͯ̏͑̕͟͝Į̨̇̐̉̃̆̓̚͏̣̤̰͍̪̮͓̗̳͚͎̝̞̘̻̪ ̸̬̞̬̭̓ͣ͂ͫ̅͆̊̈́̾̃ͨ̍͢Ğͬ̔ͤͪͩ̄̄͋̅ͥ̇̎͢͝҉͓̻̝̖̥̥́͜Į̛̟̲̳͇̖̯̳̰̮̗̱̟̒͛̎̅̄͌͊ͅ­V̶̵̴̮̘̳͎̗̘͚̱̬̪͚̼̙̭̎ͨ̿̐̐́͛͘͜E̸͕̬͖͙͖͔͙̞̥̲̪ͩ̽̃̈́̎ͭ͝ͅ ̡͍̬̘̝̭͉̫̣̲̱̥̙̭̣͉̣̠ͨ͒̿̍̀ͧ͂̍ͦ͢ͅȖ̴̳̭̬̗̮̦͖̻̼̝̠͗̆ͪ̐͐ͤͯ̕͞P̶̸̗̟͚̹͍̼̫̙̍͐̃­̌͒̓̔ͧ̏̌̄͊ͯ̏͑̕͟͝

Į̨̇̐̉̃̆̓̚͏̣̤̰͍̪̮͓̗̳͚͎̝̞̘̻̪ ̸̬̞̬̭̓ͣ͂ͫ̅͆̊̈́̾̃ͨ̍͢Ğͬ̔ͤͪͩ̄̄͋̅ͥ̇̎͢͝҉͓̻̝̖̥̥́͜Į̛̟̲̳͇̖̯̳̰̮̗̱̟̒͛̎̅̄͌͊ͅ­V̶̵̴̮̘̳͎̗̘͚̱̬̪͚̼̙̭̎ͨ̿̐̐́͛͘͜E̸͕̬͖͙͖͔͙̞̥̲̪ͩ̽̃̈́̎ͭ͝ͅ ̡͍̬̘̝̭͉̫̣̲̱̥̙̭̣͉̣̠ͨ͒̿̍̀ͧ͂̍ͦ͢ͅȖ̴̳̭̬̗̮̦͖̻̼̝̠͗̆ͪ̐͐ͤͯ̕͞P̶̸̗̟͚̹͍̼̫̙̍͐̃­̌͒̓̔ͧ̏̌̄͊ͯ̏͑̕͟͝Į̨̇̐̉̃̆̓̚͏̣̤̰͍̪̮͓̗̳͚͎̝̞̘̻̪ ̸̬̞̬̭̓ͣ͂ͫ̅͆̊̈́̾̃ͨ̍͢Ğͬ̔ͤͪͩ̄̄͋̅ͥ̇̎͢͝҉͓̻̝̖̥̥́͜Į̛̟̲̳͇̖̯̳̰̮̗̱̟̒͛̎̅̄͌͊ͅ­V̶̵̴̮̘̳͎̗̘͚̱̬̪͚̼̙̭̎ͨ̿̐̐́͛͘͜E̸͕̬͖͙͖͔͙̞̥̲̪ͩ̽̃̈́̎ͭ͝ͅ ̡͍̬̘̝̭͉̫̣̲̱̥̙̭̣͉̣̠ͨ͒̿̍̀ͧ͂̍ͦ͢ͅȖ̴̳̭̬̗̮̦͖̻̼̝̠͗̆ͪ̐͐ͤͯ̕͞P̶̸̗̟͚̹͍̼̫̙̍͐̃­̌͒̓̔ͧ̏̌̄͊ͯ̏͑̕͟͝Į̨̇̐̉̃̆̓̚͏̣̤̰͍̪̮͓̗̳͚͎̝̞̘̻̪ ̸̬̞̬̭̓ͣ͂ͫ̅͆̊̈́̾̃ͨ̍͢Ğͬ̔ͤͪͩ̄̄͋̅ͥ̇̎͢͝҉͓̻̝̖̥̥́͜Į̛̟̲̳͇̖̯̳̰̮̗̱̟̒͛̎̅̄͌͊ͅ­V̶̵̴̮̘̳͎̗̘͚̱̬̪͚̼̙̭̎ͨ̿̐̐́͛͘͜E̸͕̬͖͙͖͔͙̞̥̲̪ͩ̽̃̈́̎ͭ͝ͅ ̡͍̬̘̝̭͉̫̣̲̱̥̙̭̣͉̣̠ͨ͒̿̍̀ͧ͂̍ͦ͢ͅȖ̴̳̭̬̗̮̦͖̻̼̝̠͗̆ͪ̐͐ͤͯ̕͞P̶̸̗̟͚̹͍̼̫̙̍͐̃­̌͒̓̔ͧ̏̌̄͊ͯ̏͑̕͟͝

Į̨̇̐̉̃̆̓̚͏̣̤̰͍̪̮͓̗̳͚͎̝̞̘̻̪ ̸̬̞̬̭̓ͣ͂ͫ̅͆̊̈́̾̃ͨ̍͢Ğͬ̔ͤͪͩ̄̄͋̅ͥ̇̎͢͝҉͓̻̝̖̥̥́͜Į̛̟̲̳͇̖̯̳̰̮̗̱̟̒͛̎̅̄͌͊ͅ­V̶̵̴̮̘̳͎̗̘͚̱̬̪͚̼̙̭̎ͨ̿̐̐́͛͘͜E̸͕̬͖͙͖͔͙̞̥̲̪ͩ̽̃̈́̎ͭ͝ͅ ̡͍̬̘̝̭͉̫̣̲̱̥̙̭̣͉̣̠ͨ͒̿̍̀ͧ͂̍ͦ͢ͅȖ̴̳̭̬̗̮̦͖̻̼̝̠͗̆ͪ̐͐ͤͯ̕͞P̶̸̗̟͚̹͍̼̫̙̍͐̃­̌͒̓̔ͧ̏̌̄͊ͯ̏͑̕͟͝Į̨̇̐̉̃̆̓̚͏̣̤̰͍̪̮͓̗̳͚͎̝̞̘̻̪ ̸̬̞̬̭̓ͣ͂ͫ̅͆̊̈́̾̃ͨ̍͢Ğͬ̔ͤͪͩ̄̄͋̅ͥ̇̎͢͝҉͓̻̝̖̥̥́͜Į̛̟̲̳͇̖̯̳̰̮̗̱̟̒͛̎̅̄͌͊ͅ­V̶̵̴̮̘̳͎̗̘͚̱̬̪͚̼̙̭̎ͨ̿̐̐́͛͘͜E̸͕̬͖͙͖͔͙̞̥̲̪ͩ̽̃̈́̎ͭ͝ͅ ̡͍̬̘̝̭͉̫̣̲̱̥̙̭̣͉̣̠ͨ͒̿̍̀ͧ͂̍ͦ͢ͅȖ̴̳̭̬̗̮̦͖̻̼̝̠͗̆ͪ̐͐ͤͯ̕͞P̶̸̗̟͚̹͍̼̫̙̍͐̃­̌͒̓̔ͧ̏̌̄͊ͯ̏͑̕͟͝Į̨̇̐̉̃̆̓̚͏̣̤̰͍̪̮͓̗̳͚͎̝̞̘̻̪ ̸̬̞̬̭̓ͣ͂ͫ̅͆̊̈́̾̃ͨ̍͢Ğͬ̔ͤͪͩ̄̄͋̅ͥ̇̎͢͝҉͓̻̝̖̥̥́͜Į̛̟̲̳͇̖̯̳̰̮̗̱̟̒͛̎̅̄͌͊ͅ­V̶̵̴̮̘̳͎̗̘͚̱̬̪͚̼̙̭̎ͨ̿̐̐́͛͘͜E̸͕̬͖͙͖͔͙̞̥̲̪ͩ̽̃̈́̎ͭ͝ͅ ̡͍̬̘̝̭͉̫̣̲̱̥̙̭̣͉̣̠ͨ͒̿̍̀ͧ͂̍ͦ͢ͅȖ̴̳̭̬̗̮̦͖̻̼̝̠͗̆ͪ̐͐ͤͯ̕͞P̶̸̗̟͚̹͍̼̫̙̍͐̃­̌͒̓̔ͧ̏̌̄͊ͯ̏͑̕͟͝


I give up my sanity
exams are hard, mental instability is ecstasy
Justin Soberano Dec 2017
Aye, aye, b-b-, AYE!
-
I try to rhyme ten syllables at a time,
Whoops I meant eleven, isn’t that a crime.
To make poetry is proving nothingness,
Oh I meant something-ness, what a bloody mess!
Let’s just shut the hell up and be pantomimes!
~
a poem I made on my Twitter, might as well share it here
Justin Soberano Dec 2017
Whirlwinds and whirlpools,
Where life loops into endless tragedies.
Whirlwinds and whirlpools,
Where death loops into endless… ease?

At the center lies,
What core it may be.
At the center lies,
An abyss that’s… empty?

You live,
You die.
You dive,
You drown.
You fall,
You fly.
a poem I made on my Twitter, might as well share it here.
Justin Soberano Dec 2017
It‘s not what we ought,
Never was it sought,
To bring out a thought,
That you would get caught,
By the hands that fought,
In the night and fog,
On sunny days - drought.
Then you get knocked out,
Coffee in the mouth,
Then a single froth,

It’s caffeine.

An overdose.

You’re dead.
a poem I made on Twitter, might as well share it here as well.
Justin Soberano Oct 2017
i can hear
noises that pierce
this room that is filled
with people shouting silence
with people bringing silent noises
this room that makes me feel
deaf, ever so deaf, deaf
i'm very annoyed
i can see...
noises are annoying, but what's more annoying is my own annoyance
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