I wake to the streaming of tears
don't think me down on my luck
I am only gently stuck

hands begging to be free
guided by sirens
who sound heavenly

the caress of yesterday's misery
with a cup halfway filled
sitting in the filth
waiting to be spilled

they aren't friendly
these imposters in my body
don't take them seriously

we used to be apes
hanging in the canopies
where the waves cannot reach

a shared home no more
but we climb around
getting stuck
while losing ground

a few less fingers
pointless to blame
the talking mind
completely inhumane

the swords hold us high
the sky kisses us gently
our lord and savior
humanity

wake and go
strap-up and fix the razor blade
seize the day
work and get paid

**** up
no time to stop
just appreciate and fold
hang your head
"you can do it"
i'm offended

used to joke
now; who is dead?
yeah; yeah, yeah we are sad
i'm not woke

once a cutter, now only a janitor
no joke
no new years
only the past
the gums keep bleeding
my heart is intact

where is the strength in numbers?
here are zero
where is my hero
everyone here is a nero

the only god is minerva
i bet she smells like edelweiss
her hands are a vice
divide

Stuck in my head with this sickle hanging low
Within the forest of music
Nestled empty under a cradle of nature
Empty chest choked with the guilt
Quivering lips forget the words
Left incomplete as you go
The tranquil grove is no more
As the stars rain down like tears often do
The light shining above me is nothing special
This razor extinguishes the pain
The swirling blue embers reminding me of you
But you are not here by me
And now I swim in the creek
The current is pulling me into the abyss
I see no reason to comply
And the sanctified caress of the grass is warming
All I ever knew was you, and now I don't know myself
I don't want to go
What choice is there in this grief
Surrounded by the maggots and butterfly
Shrouded in your vibration
Your shoulders are so strong
I wish this was all I had to be
The anger is so primal and unforgiving
You are coming to terms and resenting me
Why should I try at the cemetery
Crawling around I'm wasted in the undertow
What was it you had to say
I just want to feel normal
Now it's too late
I'll hang onto those murmured words
Even though in this twilight I am to blame

society the suicide disease
aware of proliferation
following the reaper
abused substance
synthetic chemicals

trailing behind god
melodic tone perceptions
tears high
value low
long will it hurt
loved ones go
drapery over eyes
shadow plays

youth is growing old
give something to behave
only here is now

find the dead
hanging around the head
lidless crossed eye
it's okay
reaching so high
falling so deep
precious human soul

you walk ever closer
taste the doubt
dying on your blade
subject to be aware
visage of pain

In days of emergence and growth...
Hidden nestled confusion identity;
April blossoming evermore subtle.
The felled tree rooted staunchly.

Stuck within syllabus.
Bound by a soften hand,
gently caressed and unsure.
Phasing the conception of man.
Regardless of strength to endure.

Microcosm of macronutrients;
stunting the intellectual growth.
Ideally opinion held limbo.
Dreaming remaining upspoke.

Trees who are felled,
still crying the sap.
Forever stuck in this rut,
a calamity of traps.

Hence of alteration.
Out of this body,
with little mind.
Trickling down the web;
and upon my spine.

Addiction, headaches, sleep walking.
Cocktails of the past.
Stuck in relapse, with little to know.
Or how fast.

If I could harness anger,
I would be feared?

If I stood at the precipice,
I would be strong.

If I was related,
who would call home?

If this has meaning.
where do I go?

Jaded with loneliness.
I weep alone.

My identity is in question;
for as long I am to sit.
And; long will I sit.
Not a single murmur.
Just as I wish.
Nothing more, not a thing less.

I provoke answers.
And, **** for them fearfully.
I question; why?
Empathy or compassion?
Acceptance over judgment?
Turbulent or assertive?
What is correct in the end of all things?

Conscious.
Bountiful.
Polarizing.
Silence.
The answers are clear.
The practice is destructive.

Will I ascend?
Or, I may never awaken.
Maybe no one is there.
Am I?

Pick up and trek on.
Spiraling in this loop downward.
Angst; feeding upon ego.
With only two eyes to mourn.
This identity is to forsake.
Peace be but a dream.
Long will I sit.