My mistakes consume me,
eating my body inside out,
a torturing, deadly fever
with no way to cease.

My skin feels hot,
almost like it'll melt
and expose my rotten flash
for everyone to see.

There's something wrong,
something is so wrong,
I can see the red lights.

Alerts ringing on ears,
from the inside, or outside?
Are the sirens real?

There's a problem,
or several, dozens of them,
all at the same time,
creeping up on us.

My brain is so **** empty
my thoughts echo on it's walls,
should I watch the news?
They talk about war (war, war, war)
and crimes (imes, imes)
disease (ease, ease).
What can I do to feel good?
Watch your skulls down there, y'all,
I'm about to throw my TV out the window.

You're written and rewritten in my mind,
I remove bits, add parts,
you might not have The Bluest Eyes in Texas,
but you're haunting me tonight.

I'll go to bed soon,
a bed of sand,
sleep on the shore,
embraced by waves.

I'll go to bed soon,
I'll lay my head on a pile of clothes,
watch the sun set above my eyes,
stare at the dark of the night
and the light of the moon.

I'll go to bed soon,
a couple hours from now
when the last bus arrives
and takes me to the sea, my home.

How empty is this house
without echoes of your phone
ringing insistently from the next room...

How empty is this house
without the sound of you typing,
making someone else's phone ring
in someone else's home.

How empty is this house
without the image of you,
a perfect statue, sitting,
staring down at your phone.

There's a black bird in my heart,
it's like Bukowski's blue one,
but instead of sleeping with me
it keeps me up at night
and it's demands are not fun.

A huge box full of nothing
sells more than a small box
full of everything.
Your thoughts aren't your thoughts
until you've learned what they mean.
Small boxes full of nothing
will be endlessly more sold
in a place where everybody
has no box at all.

I've been speaking concisely,
in a monotonous tone,
never too passionate
about a thing in this world.
My logic skills are tremendous,
my bills are paid in time,
I'm basically a robot:
efficient, emotionless and dull.

There was a time when I needed a good head upon my shoulders,
I needed to make a difficult decision,
one that would change my life forever.

I needed a councillor, I needed advice,
at that one time, alone, I chose the wrong path,
I chose blindly, and for that I still pay the price.

If only at that one time, I knew what was at stake
I would've screamed louder, I would've cried harder
for what I lost that day.

I lost years of existence, not moving an inch forward,
now I weep for what I am and for what I could've been,
if only I had seen what was so obvious for the rest.

I'm sorry, you know,
I'm sorry I'm not
who you needed me to be.
I'm sorry I'm so distracted,
I'm sorry I never know
how to respond accordingly
when you talk about yourself
like you're the center of the world.

When I was 10 or so I had a nightmare,
one that stuck with me for this long.
I didn't think much of it back then,
but now I don't want to ignore.

I was playing outside with a friend,
a few feet away I noticed a figure,
a guy, a teenager, no doubt
the more I looked, the more I found.

The guy standing there was me, but older,
staring motionless at my younger self,
with a tired expression on his face,
horror movie ****** style.

As a happy child I thought nothing of it,
made some jokes and that was the end.
As a depressed teen, though, I grew up to see
that exact expression on my face a lot.

The hidden strength
behind dead eyes,
seemingly empty minds
running with scissors
but avoiding fights.

When I'm not sad or angry
I'm not feeling anything
and people whisper "he's so weird"
'cause they don't know what it means.
I've gotten so much advice
on the "life I'm living"
that sometimes I wonder if they
secretly know all about me.

The obscure, the unknown
gives me a chance,
while the real world
denies me the right to exist.
Reality tries to pull my strings,
but it's never just me
they have to face.
I have a hundred soldiers
in the body of one,
and among a thousand "myselves"
is where I belong.

I like loud music, it blocks out the world,
well played melodies or metal screams,
something to give me nightmares or sweet dreams,
sounds to muffle the voices out here. So loud!

I listen to deafening music at max volume
because people won't keep their mouths shut,
and I hope they see the obvious sign
that I'm not interested in their words.

But hear me out, neighbor that's for you,
I use earbuds or my headset,
I don't bother people so there's that.
I'm trying to work and you're an a...

How far did I go this time
with this impulsive trait of mine
so that I had to be locked up?
Did I run away from cops,
did I not run fast enough,
did they take me home handcuffed?
Why's my favorite cousin here,
what is that that you all fear
that I'll do with my own life?
I was just trying to have fun,
somehow it got out of hand
and I almost went to a psych ward.

Music takes me to different realms
More simple, more exciting
It makes me fly away for some time
As I dive in it's chords.

Music makes me blossom
Feeds my imagination
My emotions, my mood
It helps me heal inside.

Music guides my spirit
To places I wouldn't care
To visit otherwise.

Music cures me, hurts me
It helps me find
Versions of myself
I thought I'd left behind.