I'd rather not play;
my royal flush in
Pitty party poker.

Like a subordinate subboxin user.
Apparent cleanliness, washed out by legal addiction dysphoria.

Keep swimming.
It's easy to be king
of ttash mountain.
Just ask the president.

I've seen those on their third
chance.
Chastise those in the same shallow waters. They once called home.

Denial is one hell of a drug.
And it's legal.

I'd rather be in isolation station.
For, living is worse than dying.
In my eyes, I'm just looking for a shade of grey.

I hope you suffer,
wounds deeper than
emotional scars beneath the dermal layer.

You're truely not worth the air,
you consume.
A zealot. Heretic turned holy.
An abomination hiding behind closet alcoholism.

I'd hate to be your  liver.

Benadryl and chill.
Anti hystamine dreaming.
Pre meditated drug dealing.

Over inflateted egos.
Boys with Legos
for brains.

Hussling at gas station.
Sending little paper parcels
to wide doe eyes.

Getting high is more fun, anyways.
Most days,
I'd rather play pretend.

Sometimes you just feel so
zombie esque it hurts to breathe.
The twitches
of a witch's
evil eye.

Mirages,
of a former ghost.
My personalities paid host.
Posessions, demonic in blood relations.
I'm lost, in my own sea.
Dead like the one before me.

Every now and again.
The therapist will
give you the wheel.

Driving down a highway
for the ****** martyrs
of psychosis.

But whose really helping who?
Pleading incompetent to subdue the enemy.

Only for a moment.
Will I, endulge in this
depravity.

With smiles stained of the ****.
I willingly eat to stay relevant
It's decadent.

The sweetest escape.
For narcissists young and old.
Covered in paranoia. Leaking impulsivity.

Rocking the crown of thorns.
I don't know who wore it better.

Anti social.
Manifesto conditional.
Always sulking
within the darkness of me.

Soul ******* succubus.
Tu n'es pas ma mère.
Je vois,  mon amour.

Screaming colors
at the blind.
Only falls on deaf ears.
Apparently.

My aura
be violent
with ya.

Like backwashed desires.
Regret.
From impulsivites.
Yesterday gave me.

All lost memories of lucid dreams.
Now hungry nightmares.
Staring back at me.
With the same doe eyes.
That used to call, mine.

But our blood
will spill
Just the same.

It's not about the headless
victm.

Nor will  it ever
be. So.
Just chill.
And enjoy the thrill
of the ****.

The blessed expedition.
Hunting the Hunter.
Is a most wonderful feeling.

Going postal
On the ones giving you
All these letters.

The mail carrier.
Is positive for swine.
Flu.

Cause the news.
They keep dishing us.
Is tainted.

Rotten.
Like the word.
This **** is rolled.
Gold.
Put that in your straw
And snort it.

I really only think of you.
When I'm drunk.
Getting
choked out by strangers.

A working boys story:
missing home.

Is like missing
razor blade kisses.

Drawing lines.
Parallel to my opaque veins.
A translucent transient.
Im serious about my crazy.
Don't play with demons ;
if you can't handle the Devil

I'am,
what i am.
The lowkey Siren.

Lemme sing you a song.
While I place a curse on
your mayflower.
And drag us all down.

Captain,
I'm not one to **** with.

Under the borderline sun.
I'm a career psychopath.
Working from home.
Beneath the ground.

I once called home.

Aren't we all just knocking
on open doors
I'm not home right now.
Try again later.

Trust is like a personality.
Broken, evenly.
You say, I trust everyone
but you.

I'm kind of split in judgement anyways.
But I can't keep up with who you're trying to be today.

The incredible guilt,
I have for telling you
Deathscsweet seal
Is the hardest cross,
I've ever had to bear.
Incineratorin,
slowly in silence.
Burning like the Matches
only speak.
This course is speeding up my hour glass.
A little too fast for comfort.

Sick in the heart.
Perpetual darkness pulses through my bruised up veins.
Blood work seems to take forever.

Heathens cast the first stone and burn me at the stake.
Like the filthy witch I've become.

But in vain, I've been incinerating in silence.
Since you left me here with these vampires.
Hungry for the essence of my spirit.

Depression is, living in a snowglobe.
Watching the world move around you.
While you're dealing with the guilt
of waking up disappointed for being alive.
Mania is just making up for lost time.

When you've been sick for so long.
That it feels more normal than anything.
A high functioning, hot mess.
As my mind runs in circles, on repeat.
Like a cursed pendulum.
Tomorrow's dissapointments are none of today's business.

Depression is living in a snow globe.
Trapped within the glass like a prisoner.
Staring at the world before you.
As you brace for the storm to hit.

Waiting for the light
to shine through.
The cracks of broken glass
I've become accustomed to living in.

I'm not really sure how to feel Anymore.
Like screaming help in a room full of deaf people. This is starting to feel hopeless.

I can feel the pressure
of 30,000 leagues
before I see you.

Crushing bones and spirit.
With omnipotent force.

The crucifixion of my heart.
At the hands of the Cinderella complex.
An empire in which I do not have a home.
Unwelcome and unwanted.
My Prince Charming,
is nothing more than a nice thought.

My visions of future nightmares;
staring the ones I hold closest
to my beating heart.

Leave me paralyzed with the fear.
Of tragedies, yet to happen.
Things people shouldn't know
but somehow I've managed,
to be thrown in the medium.

It's like someone or something,
is trying to show me uncharted territory.
Curiosity killed the cat.
But sometimes we've been chosen by
forces greater than ourselves to serve a higher purpose.
Before we can even think of coming home.

Feeling worthless is a popular trend
these days, it's hard to tell.
Who is your friend
and who is your foe.
Trying to turn the other cheek
is proving to be one of the hardest things,
I've ever done.

But tell me,
oh wise one.
With all your
superior knowledge
and hidden powers.
Are you genuine?
Or are you playing make believe?

One thing I'm sure of is;
you're rather convinced
that you know my soul.
Better than I do.
That my dear Mystic is debatable.

My faith in you
is dissipating.
Like boiling water
disappearing into steam.
No, this isn't a dream.
The truth isn't always kind.
Kind of like you.

I could keep ignoring the facts.
Disregard, every red flag you
wave in front of my face.
Only to pretend things are alright
until I go off the edge.
But doesn't that seem obnoxious?
I'd rather be alone.

As I descend downward
into darkness.
I find myself collecting
omens like a *******
collecting diseases.

Fighting demons,
my eyes cannot see.
Doesn't mean they're any
less real than you or I.

Living in the dark.
The Sun's too sad to shine today.
And you, my Love, are equally as sad.

I felt your envious eyes,
whisper tales of my true rank in life.
Untouchable, the dirt you wouldn't
grace your spit with.

A well fabricated quilt of lies.
To smother my heart and hold it
captive in the fires.
Of pure narcissism and self hatred.
Long after you left me here.

May our souls both find their peace.
Respectfully and may our hearts as dark and broken as they may be.
Mend themselves in the warmth, love and truth of the Sun once more.

For every step I take,
I can feel my feet slipping
back three.

I'm at the end of my rope.
But my noose isn't even tied yet.

Living in a snow globe.
Watching life around me blossoming,
beautifully.
But when I try and reach out.
My hands hit the glass and stop me dead in my tracks.

I'm developing
physical ailments.
From my over abundance
of feelings, I'd rather not have.
Being human, ***** man.

As wars wage within my heart.
I can feel my inner demons
playing my heart strings
like a harp.
A beautiful melody
of self destruction, hatred and fear.
Acoustics are great.
But I'm still waiting
for the choir of Angels
to sing songs
of love and peace.
Someday,
that's a nice thought.

A moment of peace
in between the battles.
Of my heart and mind.

Is as common as a
four leaf clover.
A rare occasion.
A holiday for my heart.

To forget the war it's losing.

No matter how many miles separate us.
If you never speak to me again.

At least, I can take comfort in knowing
that when you've had your fill.
Faith lost, hope vanished from your heart
without a trace.
I know,
you'll look to the stars.
Only to see tens of thousands of them;
shinning brightly on the darkest nights.
Just for you.

And if this life is just meant to be a realm of torture.
A realm of apathy and discontent.
I find peace within my heart knowing
I'll be looking at the same sky, too.

Lost within the fear.
One too many times now.
I can feel my heart slowly,
breaking into a million shattered dreams.
In between irratic palpitations and bursts of nervous energy.
Of course.

I think my soul is ascending to its purest form.
It's both terrifying and beautiful.
Almost like I'm dying and living simultaneously.

Channeling demons against my will.
My body, used.
Seen nothing more than a flesh ouija board.
In your game of self reassurance.
I'm not the conduit, you wanted me to be.
My eye's just as open as yours.
Stop telling me otherwise.

One day, I pray
I'll break free from these chains.
To run far away.

Fast, like the Devil's
following me.
And as his hand grasps my collar,
I'll fall back into your arms again.

If you were here
and they were gone.
My hearts bleeding there too.

Staring out at all that lies before me.
Trapped within a prison.
I look, to see your life blossoming like a beautiful rose.
I'd be living too.
If I wasn't freezing to death.

As the long forgotten Sun kisses my skin, with his warmth.
I can feel my heart shed a few tears.
In light, of the feelings I once had for you.

These days,
talking to you is like
screaming.
Under water

No matter how loud
I am,
the waters will always drown out
my pleas.
To the ears that need to hear them.

I think I'm cracking under the pressure

And in the end
are we  nothing more than the
dreams we never lived.

The souls we never let free.
Sedated, we spend our lives numb.
Hibernating with in a cold, empty shell.
One that's constantly getting smaller.
While we seem to always be getting bigger.

Looking for an escape.
Testing the waters, to see if we can really walk the line.
Or if we're just another fabled tragedy of the heart.

But still, in the silence, I know I'm not alone.

See the beauty within your core.
Speak nothing but the truth.
Listen, only to the same.
And feel nothing but the warmth of love unseen.

Hallucinations of a dream, waiting to be lived.
Searching for your soul but I feel it's no longer here.
As I look into those empty, lonely eyes.
A part of me is dying to be with the person you once were.
They say,  it's  hard to love someone who doesn't love you.
But sometimes you've got to tango with the demons, to make it through the calendar.

It scares me, how much I'm like you. Generational demons unlocked their curses and waged a war against our souls. Like being caught under a frozen pond. Trying to break free of the oppression. Trying to breathe, while your breath of life became a long dramatic sigh. Like the sand on an hour glass slowly fading into past tense. I used to love you. I used to walk down one way streets too.

I shed egos
like a snake sheds its skin.
Forever changing.
Forever growing.
Forever running from the broken whimpers of last nights wishes.
I will always be that lonely spirit.
You never wanted haunting your life.

As I'm running through my dreams of you.
I see the story on repeat.
A burden lurking in the depths of my soul.
Longing for the life unlived, longing for paradise.
If they were ready.
If you were ready, when I was.

I never thought being loved would hurt so bad.
Like a thousand knives stabbing my bleeding heart.
For every lie I speak.
As the fear of being alone slowly suffocates my dying heart.
I see the cold monster I've become.

I don't want to be here.
Or there.
Anywhere for that matter.
I just want to exist, free.

Like the wind taking fallen leaves
off into the sunset.
Or lonely ghosts coming to haunt memories of yesterday.

Aren't we all.
So lucky, if we can still find ourselves. Even after all the horrors time has brought us.

Time doesn't exist,
I will always be here,
waiting.
For your call.

From a world
beyond,
what my eyes
can see.

I'm ready to go home now,
too.
May the cord wrap
around my neck and
take my breath
away.

Run, fast
and don't look back
at the phantoms who chase you.

For if you look into
the darkness.
It becomes a part of you.

Your imagination
is the foundation of
your reality.

You can never be lost
if you follow the silver-cord trail
all the way home.

Back into
my arms
again.

Sands slyly slipping  
through the hour glass and
Time's moving on.
A lot
faster than
I.
Try to remember the sound of your voice.
But it never works.
Memories serve no purpose
if you cannot tell
what's real and what's pretend.

Brand it,
Bandit.
Livin' the dream,
curse.

Sulking
in the silence
of your sorrows.

Neck deep
in worry waves.
&
I'm drowning, in the
shallow waters of my own.

As I rise from the
grave, you
left me in.

Revenge is the
beat of my heartless
pulse.

Acting without compassion.
In a sick sense.
I think, I'm stronger than before.

Playing the role, perfectly.
I will be the medium
for all the hearts you broke.

& I'll plead insanity when the performance is over.

***-runnin'
to the cemetery.
Goin' grave-diggin',
Tonight.

It's three to three,
and I'll be back
home.

At the half-way
house, in time for
breakfast.

Till then,
I'm chasin'
the ghost.
I used to call my reflection.