You used to tell me “The way you’re living is bad.”
“The way you’re living is terrible.”

You used to point out every little intricate mistake that I was making and every little small detail of my life that ****** you off.

But when I asked you “What I could do to change everything?”

You kept spewing your garbage at me.
So all I did was look at you and say:

“When are you going to realize that you have nothing left to say that I want to hear?”

*“And sooner or later, you’re going to have nothing left to say at all.”

You're fine, son
I'm worried
You should be
relax
I'm scared dad
It's okay
I don't want to lose her
You might not
But
You need to stop doubting
I can't face this
If she has the heart you think you've found
You need to be what you speak of and keep it

I know she loves me
but she has a hard road ahead of her
You know what, perhaps she doesn't?
Perhaps your worries are your own
Yes they are dad, mine alone but
Then don't lose her by hiding away!
deep breaths

But dad, what about mum?

It makes me look weak,            
                        My tears leaks…      
                My eyes are sore          
        My heart is a bore          
  and My body repeats a painful encore.              

                  I dust away the sad memories,                                        
but it comes along like it’s my adversaries.                  

I hate sadness
It shakes my reality, a piercing faithfulness
                towards my soulful unhappiness.

I don’t need help,
    but in truth I am lying to myself.

You’ll never know, what comes and goes
    yet I am stuck between my toes.

I hunger for that light
    but all that comes is my arresting night.

Perhaps I am doom with my own gloominess.
Starvation and Weariness
                  is a consolation of my messiness
~ a choice with laziness,
         to ponder and wonder
                    to the world’s unending sadness.



*© Pax  September, 2013

nine







nine are left,
my old poems.
only nine.

copy, paste,
repost,
delete,
but now,
only nine remain,
ghosts of depression,
of loneliness,
of love,
cover,
my computer screen,
even now,
i'm not sure what they mean.
copy,
repost,



delete.

Existence is not life. Existence is not 'to be'. Existence is not something we could derive. By itself, Existence does not mean anything. Existence does not exist.