Misery,
no matter its history,
always learns,
ways to return.

Thoughts like streams,
jokes on you.
The energy will consumer,
the customs you have made.
Jokes on the one with dreams,
the one who brings fear and envy.
All I am is the messenger,
of thought to power.
This isn’t agony.
This is grand.
Something will strike me down,
but in the end,
I will return to this place of solace.

Morning rinses,
bleak as night’s wishes.
Mirror stares, a returning glance,
empty and a portrayal of trance.
Running wet hands through a face
which then becomes faces out of place.
Fabrication of dried skin, weakened,
by morning rinses, a beg to look thin.

It is the one thing that keeps the mind
distracted by  the tangled brain saying nevermind.
Skin glistening, memories, enchanting like they’re
misery struggling to know, just where?
Where do these ideas come from?
Surely, nothing exists in a mind so dumb.
Possessed by the walls,
struggling to hear the morning bird calls;

Morning rinses.
Morning rinses,
of the face so purely lacking anything,
or is it just telling you something?
The worlds of regret are finally drowning,
but you are not the one who is allowing.
No, you are just the observer,
and this morning will last forever.

Entertain the,
silly idea,
that they’re
watching you.

Not the people,
but the ideas.
How they dance,
how they laugh,

around your shrinking skull.
A skull, your comrade,
that blissfully goads you,
to fight them all.

Unaware, you have already begun.
You have started disgracing yourself.
You, bombastic and terribly wise,
find yourself weak, and ‘facetious.’

You can kid the brilliantly obvious idea
that structures are supposed to die.
Of course, people must die, too.
They, are the ones belittling you.

Taking away your identity, punishment is near.
Shamed by your guilt, losing seems apprehensive.
For, either way, you will die gracefully,
as concepts fail to understand, your ideas.

They, are the ones who must suffer death.
One filled with, not suffering, but just what?
It must be their destiny, to drown in dirt.
These things, belong to the ground, silly me.

Pour yourself, a dream.
Scour all who remain.
Enjoy watching them die,
even though it’s destiny.

Somewhere,
between one and a dozen,
was infinity.
Peaceful,
identical to empty energy
engulfed by
a haze of elation.
No frustration.

Take me, pills.
You walked in and saw
a corpse with a smile
plastered on its face.
You touched me.
You ******* *******.
Emptiness dies like
joy when reality
falls on your face.

I felt nothing at all.
Just the infinity
of death.
But,
you touched me.
Enough had happened already.
But,
you touched me.
I chose to be away from you.
But,
you touched me.

Memory has gone in a haze.
Just the look of horror,
on your face,
when you
were the one
who dealt with the guilt.
The guilt of putting me back
in my place.

Take me, pills.
Take her, too.
She touched me.
One of three,
none will know just what it is
like,
to forcibly remove the pain.

Clamoring words,
self-induced quiver.
Worlds, locked inside the mind
of a fabulous mixture of trance,
wisdom and a fearless anxiety,
suddenly, subtly, spat words
of endless drudgery,
spoken vibrantly,

Sleep.
Sleep?
Sleep!



,

My love.
My fervent darling from above.
Submerged by your
eyes that scream,
with boiling passion,
"I am not worth this."
Whether you are, or not,
your mind,
being as fragile as it is invincible,
is worthy of spawning a universe.
Dazed,
not by agony,
but by the confusion itself,
will not separate purity
from the perilous journey
we undergo.
I beg to find anything other than
an agonizing defeat.
Searching endlessly,
has become a necessity.
Grant me eternity.
I'm mesmerized by
moments of you,
unadorned.
Seeing through fog,
blemishes no part of the sky.
I open my heart and get filled by
another one that digs deep.
Troubled and withdrawn,
I am nothing but a whisper,
"I love you."
Pain is a facade for sanctity.
Pain is a facade for sincerity.
There is escape from suffering,
but looking for it caused more.
But now, I am at peace in a world of
horror.
Everything looks bright,
so bright.
I wish I could see through your eyes,
just to feel,
for one moment,
how it feels to see the world through such beauty.