Of all the things I could promise myself;
I can only say half-*** things about the good things
that are about to come along the way
then light a cigarette with a clouded mind
and zero visions of an escape plan.

Yeah, it's as typical as I could be when I am left
with not much of a choice but to function in harmony
with the "best laid plans" of my life.

I am somehow glad that I got through
almost everything that has been weighing me down.
Through with the sadness and the depression
but hollowed out through the process,
worn out by everyone who have me by the shoulder.

I don't mind at all, but if there's something that
bothers me is that the longer I spend my time staying here
the more bland my life seems to present itself
which is why I keep on finding ways not to get separated
from the line that leads me back into thinking:
"I don't mind at all."

born

named after a three,
a brainstormed term
or the same old family name

celebrated

bred

thrown out in the open

eyes widened by the true visions
of the world

self confessions,
both harmless and self deprecating

the only answer to be given back
are tears out of the lack of reason

make a stand against the machine
with trembling
limbs, having courage is absurd
but to live it out is a choice

leave a flower for a few days
without water and it will perish

at peace
at ease

easier to let go
harder to leave

you just don't gather these,
your dissatisfactions in life,
distractions, warning signs,
long durations of time,
probably months without
someone to do,
you keep them until they hurt

why do you keep them
all to yourself?

do you know these people?

they're always right huh?

they're never wrong.

that's why you're there.
I'm here.

we don't resist.

we just want to live in our
own way of how the world
could attain peace,
then we die silently soon after.

we've set foot in this world
with open mouths gasping for air

the white in our eyes like ghosts
we pass by everyone,
every single soul who could see us
they try to touch our bodies
like smoke in the air
and we try to set
our arms helplessly, forming a hold,
an embrace

we don't harm anyone
we don't call anyone
we don't miss anyone

we miss ourselves
and we pass by everyone
we search for the same image
of ourselves through them
we copy their motions
in an attempt to feel
what once was

and they walk through us

formless we swim in the air

everywhere at once, we seem to
get smaller as the trails
disappear in thin air

what keeps us from disappearing?

we smoke

the **** out
of those packs.

just like everybody else.

I don’t have any idea of what’s going on.
The last time I’ve heard of people is that they’ve moved on.
I filled up all the spaces they’ve left vacant;

A reminiscent of company left to replay scenes
in the dryness of old places where such small
events happened.

Here stands my greatest enemy.

He reigns from far distant places and secret
undesired corners of the mind,
he serves as a companion to many,
can get a grasp of many heads in just one heavy
lash of isolation translated in thousand resonating languages;
an anthem whose choir wears nothing but electronic
employment pages on their heads
in this dangerous time of ours;
the fair opposite equivalent of rendered services in the day
by limbs, nerves, anxiety and mind laying rest in the night,
waiting for the weekend or perhaps waiting for an out,
a pause and maybe a moment of silence or peace:

Loneliness.

I never mind your presence.

You never were a good translator,
if anything,

you’re a traitor.

some other days our twenties dry like dry leaves
no cold establishments would take our souls
hey I just lost my job let’s drink with what’s left of my paycheck
I’d carry us a little bit higher than the rusty rooftops
if not, we’ll carry on as dreamers as the belligerents failures
of the previous generation into the four corners of
this small apartment

it’s a gathering of the minds

it’s all there is for us other than what wings that covers us
in our home, in the suburbs, in our comfort shelters

I get so tired of letting people know
that I just want to take back their idea of me

and of course, anyone of you who’ll lend me

the phrase “we’ll figure it out in the morning” will be much
appreciated

no need to force our depression-embodied bodies to work
we can bathe in alcohol lose another day loosen up lay down
get laid get high wake up late and despise the industry..

I thanked December way too early
now it has taken things way too seriously.

Most of the times
I neglect the truth away.
Never wanting to disturb
the calm waters.

The coming of age is over, spoiled
now that I have all the answers.
It's all coffee in the kitchen
with my feet tapping anxiously
sitting and waiting for the dead
working hours to move on its own,
dragging me away from freedom.

I never get control of my life,
honesty is a misunderstanding
and
depression is a misunderstanding,
a misleading coping mechanism
to slack a day or two in bed,
reading books that I'll never finish,
reading Bukowski poems
that does nothing but
make me embrace
the most comfortable
negativity there is.

Not doing anything at all,
just waiting for nothing
to happen until they move
me on another spot
that needs covering.

This individuality lacks
the guts to move independently,
lacks the guts to burn bridges
in exchange for a better path,
for a clearer space to breathe
where my state of mind is not questioned,
misunderstood or left untreated.

For ****'s sake,
relatives, strangers, friends, lovers,
corporations and unwanted
entitlements, responsibilities
just leave me alone.

I have been sober for months now,
and all you care about is
throwing all the things
that you think
is best for
me.

Well I could use a drink,
it's the best thing for me now,
that's for sure.