A horizon of skyscrapers
Flashing neon lights
A utopia of pastel punk colors
The echo of endless ringing
Reflecting across my mind
I live in this artificial world
Which some call  p e r f e c t
The synthetic sky gently fades
To  i n k  b l a c k
As stars made of plastic appear
Cars blast their horns
The headlights shimmering on the sides
Of towering skyscrapers
While empty thoughts brush past
My mind
Is an eternal
Aquatic abyss
A stranded desert
Holding memories of days gone by
This is where i belong
Fog drifting in the air
Wisps of chemical clouds
At night
and the stories
Of the curious inhabitants
Crossing paths
And choosing them
A planetary aesthetic
Covering each and
Every one
Welcome
To i n f i n i t y  c i t y

Tears, they fall like splintered
Rain                    
Plunging down from
Clouds of pain
Pain like,
A dull knife through my
Forlorn heart
A bullet through the chest
An arrow through my
Tragic mind
Midnight blood
Flowing from my wounds
That comes from those things
A dull knife
A sharp, swift
bullet shot
I could think
of many ways to die
A distracted train
A jagged cliff
A hanging
Rope
Taking away my
B R O K E N  P R I D E
And
F R A G M E N T S  O F  M Y
S O U L
Raising a white flag
To the universe above
A rope
A knife
A leap
A slit to the
throat
Drowning in
The endless sea
C A N  I  B E  S A V E D
B E F O R E  T H E  F L A G  R I S E S ?
A question forever unanswered
Ignored by those
In front of me
No one
Truly
Hears my pleas
Can I…
Call you a friend?
(W H A T  I S  A  F R I E N D?)
Will you come for me?
( N O   O N E   W I L L)
I honestly doubt it
You won’t be there
(W I L L   A N Y O N E?)
You won’t save me
N O   O N E   C A N
I am rapidly falling
Down this inescapable
Cliff
Jagged with crystal rock
Falling to a pit of eternal
Darkness
Unable to stop
Is there any way to save me…?
Probably not.
If only I could just
Not exist
For a while
Escape this wretched illusion
Will you like me if I am
D E A D ?
Probably.
Not.
But maybe
Maybe you’ll be like me
B R O K E N
And
A L O N E
Tears slipping down my
Scarred cheeks
In the dead of night.
I don't know
If I want to be saved

I’ve got drooping, pacific eyes
Unkempt hair
Spread across my rumpled pillow
Turquoise Dollar Tree headphones
Covered in shadows
Tuned out
From the outside world

I am listening to
A voice stretched with pain
Imperfect, but at the same time
Fighting a war against
The world itself
Vivid bass
Booming through my ears
And the striking of drums
Lightning echoing
Out my headphones
The coarse voice
Filled with agony and the grief
Of millions of those forever lost,
And his muted guitar
Come to a gentle end


I haltingly return to reality
Turning around and
Clicking on
A new melody
I settle back in
To this new world
And finally close my eyes.
I am home.

The Maps
Filled with criss-crossed
Broken lines and the spaces in
Between
Loosely covering
The pale green
walls of my room.
Sheltering the cracks
Shaped by forgotten dreams
And lost memories
Finding their way back home
The maps will sometimes
Lead them along a path
Before releasing them back
To the place they were first born.

The Maps
Are more than just
“Pieces of paper”
They are my future
My hopes and dreams
I drew them with my blood
And plastered them onto my faded
Walls with my scarred hands
And broken fingers
They encapture the pathways of my
Veins and the
Flow of my thoughts

The Maps
Are what will help me
Become who I want to be
And get where I want to go
They are aged, and worn
They’ve been spit on by society
And ripped to shreds by the demons
Corrupting this place
But I’ve taped them back together
For hours on end
These Maps,
Are my life source
My light
When there is none
The candescent hope
Giving me strength
When nothing else can.
I will endlessly follow them
Till I lose my last breath.

She emerges like
A willowy swan
Onyx butterflies
Resting on her widened
Striking bronze eyes,
Wearing an Ivory sari
An ersatz Taj Mahal
Draped in intricate gold trim
Her long braid flings
Through the fragrant air
As her identity
Dissolves into the rhythm
And she surrenders
To the beating of the drum
Jasmine crowns her head
Jewels clinking, jangling
As her toes skim the ground
And her henna tipped fingers
Dance with the flow of the veena
Rosy cheeks as she pushes through
On this stage,
She is free.

I am standing
At the      e d g e
Of a cliff
Soaked with ripe cherries
Covered in grainy
Indigo sand
Overlooking a serene
Rose tinged lake
Covered in white lotus flowers
And surrounded by
Glistening cerulean rock

A vivid orange sky
Hangs over me
Carrying stars made
Of crystal and jade
As a pastel moon
Softly shines

Violets surround
My hazed vision
Their wispy aroma
Healing the scars
I took from rose thorns
The autumn wind
Gently blows my hair
And allows me to
Breathe at last.

I don't know how I
Came here.
But I don't want
To go back
For now
I will stay
With the alabaster Lotus flowers
The amethyst moon
And soft blue sand.

Silence
Is the best genre
Of music
It keeps us
From becoming completely
I n s a n e
To exist in
A non-existing sort of way.

But Silence
Has also been
the Condemnor
Of thousands
It is the
Illusion that
Everything is alright
And the world is made
Of nothing
But Peace
(Lies)

This music has made
Others become blind
To
Hunger.
Violence.
War.
We must
Speak out.
Fight with our words
Battalions of letters
The power of our voices
Attack it with
Palaces of paragraphs
Or Silence will win.