Poisons brewed
inside my head's playgrounds
numbed the entirety
of my flesh
gossiping voices
from my consciousness
envelopes me
in a heavy cloth
of suffering,
gasping for air
in a forest
filled with trees
drowning on land,
trains on halt
though fuel burns
in messy flames
batteries drained
while the switch is off
a tired soul
caused by a forever
running mind.

The beaming headlights
from my fleshless thoughts
are artificial stars
that enchants me
towards the things that kills
and gives pleasure
all at once


I hear horns echo
during eerie nights
that never seem to stop,
a stench
reeks in my memory
while a cold breeze
invades my system


though it is quiet here
and quite comforting
the edge of a knife
teases me
to cut myself,
just to feel the rush of blood
from my stagnant soul.

There are scars
under my skull
that often throbs,
and sometimes
they open up
and bleed
profusely

I drench and drown
in my own blood
from the wounds
of yesterday,
and suffocate
while sitting down
in my throne

they make me ill
and they fuel
my rage,
they are ghosts
that haunts me
from time
to time.

Under the cracks
and crevices
of the vessel
we inhabit
shadows live
and feeds on
the rotten parts
of our flesh
and our mind,
they force us
to wear a mask
of disguise
that displays
a groggy smile,
they shake our knees
with every step
that we take
and lock our lights
in the abyss
then sinks our head
in what ifs.

I see the flames
I sit there and watch
as it comes a little closer
but my skin
could not feel the heat.

I watch as it consumes
everything around me
I watch as it slowly
desolates my dream.

I watch numbly
and wonder,
how can I put it out
when I am its arsonist?

Sanity drifting in oblivion
clock gears rusting
with every turn
of the sun,
metal cages towering
over old stone giants
emotions manipulated
by gleaming screens
in the palm of our hands,
programmable minds
and destructive thoughts
fighting an invisible war
against mirrors,
the virus and the cure
in one flesh
a fine irony,
believing in a promised
of golden fields
but walking the path
towards a fiery hell.

The lightbulbs above my head
keeps exploding
when I spark a thought
my room will stay dark
for quite some time
shards of broken glass
scattered on the floor
will wait in the dark
anticipating a step
that will make me bleed,
and when the blood starts to drip
the room becomes ugly
and a clown will begin to mock
my wounds
holding me back
from heating the filament
to start a light
once again.