These ******* winter months always chills me to the bone.
We would have been together by three years next month.
No one else has been able to keep my heart warm ever since.

My grandfather is slowly losing his mind and he can’t stay himself.
In just a few more years I’ll be entirely alone without a family.
Those Christmas decorations are like flashing neon signs at a funeral.

All of my holiday cheer is pure ******* it’s been a con for a long time.
The future approaching me is grim but I figure that I deserve all of this.
I’m used to dancing with the dead anyways.

“Merry ******* Christmas I might see you again next year.”
I told my reflection in the smudged mirror.

I sold my soul to Satan because I was drunk and bored.
Hell and brimstone is a nice change from that woman.
The way she nags at me is far sharper than any pitchfork.
It was true misery at first ****.

Oh and don’t even get her started about trying to have any fun.
She makes me truly envy all the dumb and deaf people.
It’s been twenty years far too long.

A functional routine is a just a necessary evil I suppose.

You can wash your hands but the ever filth won’t wash off.

Seeing death for the first time is a lot like popping your cherry.
The ones afterward are felt less and far more forgettable.

As life goes on you’ll become slowly number to it,
and it even is harder to grow shocked by.

I saw one paralyzed and trying to desperately grasp for air,
And another tangled in wreckage she was just 28.

The rest are simply more of a distant haze,
but yet those people are now forever gone just the same.

Strangers, family, or friends simply become ****** to memory.

All of us only have a one-way ticket so just enjoy the ride.

A desolate shore never seems to lie.
The sands became filled with litter that lasts for a lifetime.
Just like those tattoos that are now resting on your naked body.

The washed up sea life slowly rots and starts to reek in the sunlight.
Our love is the same way it seems.

That tainted water is as brown as your eyes staring straight into me.
No families dot the isolated wreckage of this unnatural landscape anymore.

All I can do is weep alone and stand in the footprints of people long gone.
Some days I wonder...
Was it intentional or just another tragic accident?

The night kissed my open wounds shut.
I wanted to embrace death but I won’t go quiet.
My clutter filled room is the only world I know.

After nineteen years of being trapped I can’t leave.
Breaking free through with my mind is the only escape.
Books and the Internet give me dreams of the outside.

My family loves me but they can never let me go.
I’m an inmate chained up by their overprotective good intentions.

In a few years everything I know will be completely gone.
My grandparents will be gone and I’ll lost and alone.

Nothing can tear through the heart faster than living in a broken home.

The mundane feat of putting letters on a piece of paper is but a cumbersome fight against lions.
My hands can never create the worlds vividly painted inside the sanctum of my inner thoughts.

Immense shame makes my eyes slither out many concealed tears and coats my heart with envy.

Depression can become very familiar company to an utterly ******* worthless inept freak like me.

Each day from sunrise to sunset is filled by loneliness as its eaten away into thirteen long years.

And a young boy’s hopes and dreams just to be normal died slowly while screaming.