saying it makes my skin tingle
the back of my throat burns
bile comes shooting from the pit
of my stomach, till my mouth is bitter

I hate every inch of this body
and this mind that's too ticklish
it could pop, like a bubble
but stronger than a rock

all this haughty facade
is easily brittle, the blisters
seeping through my soul
and I bleed, an immortal

I work in progress-
but I am marked red,
unwanted by the gods
and rejected by the devil

I am tired of giving
and lending, comforting
to never try

just sick of breaking
and betting, gambling
but not to cry

if only I could sleep
and dream, resting
without this drug

to receive is wishing
and pleading, exhausting
all my might

if this is living
then it is not worth it
I'd rather lie

my words are incoherent
verbose, assaulting
may it survive

I have always dreamt of running
to a place far from here
my name would not ring a bell
and my manners are not shunned or shamed

Maybe with air that freely flows
to the crevice of my opened windows
no curtains of clothes hanging
or the foul smell of smoke

Is it too much to wonder
if I succeeded years ago
If my bravery did not falter
would I be freed, or, be caged?

I just wonder if it'd bring peace
or anger and rage
these days I am just a baggage
all my words are always kept.

It's that moment
when the pieces
of the puzzle
all combine.

And you see a
glorious picture
that you doubted
that you'd find.

And then after
when the pieces
are inspected
each with care.

You see purpose
and see meaning
each too valuable
to spare.

I gripped the sad movie-
a lonesome, desperate grip
begging that it falters
to provide me with pain
trigger my ever-breaking
everlasting schemes

Do I have to call it hunger
or call it desperate
is it wanting, exalting
or just a basic clique
is my wish of free falling
pitiful and bleak?

I try to summon tears
agony, or fear
pain? maybe glory
any- kind to feel
in this hollow-like pattern
it suffocated me
c r u c i a t u s