Am I dying awake?
   or living a dream.
I do know I am drowning,
  falling deeper, deeper, gasping, begging, pleading,
      praying for help!
This H̶o̶m̶e̶, yes, this symbol, we "called" home
  is killing me softly, as it fails to contain this soul.
    Which weeps and dies, for this symbol a constant reminder
     that we used to inhabit.

Chains of d̶i̶s̶a̶p̶p̶o̶i̶n̶t̶m̶e̶n̶t̶s,
  are my tributes to the world.
Failed poems full of incogitable nuances
   each number, another sorrow,
Full of my of diluted fantasies of happiness.
Paint a succession of damages, of a broken heart
    which sings its same old tune,
        old , overplayed, disappointing tune.

Why am I alone?
Pondering and lingering,
consumed in irregular thought.
Why are my tears not heard?
The soul it weeps not seen?
This pain, streamed from my eyes, leaves its sour taste.
Why am I alone?
Happiness surrounds me, and pain imprisons me.
Free me from this cage,
      it chokes me,  
          it's shadow paints me,
                  free me from this loneliness.
-A̶l̶o̶n̶e̶

I saw a strange character in the mirror tonight,
  he smiled at me, rays of sunshine that illuminated his song.
       Like a yellow cannery, impure, happy, small but strong.
          I saw a strange character in the mirror tonight,
                 I wish I could say it was . . . 𝗺𝗲

My mind wanders the cosmos and the heavens,
always thinking, what you'd think of the man I became?
   Should I come and meet you in the dark?
      Would we be bestfriends again?
          Is this E̶x̶a̶l̶t̶e̶d̶ thinking,
             or the madness of my own silence?

Like the trains,
  that always run late.
      I was late to love,
      I was late to happiness,
      But I was early to the desolate sea of loneliness that awaits us,
        as the train gets lost in the foggy gray hills of death,
             we all reach. . . you were early to that stop.
                   I am still late waiting for the station, for us to meet.

Inside my mundane complexion
constant tides and angry currents stir,
it bites and claws at my insides,
hoping, pleading, to form the words
for him to notice how much he means to me.
But another voice, internal screams out.
Even though ages have passed,
flesh has turned to dust,
my heart is yours,
my mind is yours,
my brain is yours,
my lust is his,
  but your voice,
         leaves me s̶p̶e̶e̶c̶h̶l̶e̶s̶s̶,
            as I know I am not the one.