My death will be liberating.

And I do not say that in the sense
that I am going to find a cliff
and take a good jump off.

No.

I am just trying to find a
clever way to tell you

that I do not know what is going
to happen next.

You see,

there is a
fine line
between
dreaming and
mortality

and

I am finding out for myself
that being in love
does not always
involve

being awake.

And for my sake
I fall in love with daydreams,
nightmares,
hazy realities
and

the hung-over idea

of not being enough.

It is all out of my hands.
                 It is all out of time.

And the only thing I have left to do,
now,


is decide.

"It's been
a
terrible day"
She said
                                                         Tell me
                                                  something   ­                                               beautifull?"
                   And
                          he
            said
                              her
     Name...

She says she's fine
But she's going insane.

She says she feels good
But she's in a lot of pain.

She says it's nothing
But it's really a lot.

She says she's okay
But she's really not.

Don't
         Cry
               At
                   My
                        Funeral...


                                                                     I
                                                            Died
                                                   Long
                                            Ago

I’m sorry poetry
But you can’t save me this time
I use to scribe to you
Until I lost track of time
And the bad feelings went away
As soon as I was done
I didn’t do it for fun
I wrote to you to save me from myself
But now
You no longer help
When I put the pen down
I don’t feel healed
Or cured
I always felt empty inside
But now this time it’s real
Hello Poetry, Goodbye