I can't believe how high I am.
Soaring above the clouds, looking down in ambivalence.
Pretending to care has never been so hard. BLAM!
Into the ground I crash in magnificence.
Sparks explode and seas collapse,
into the void we all descend hopeless and afraid
aimlessly we wander with no maps,
I look towards your braid,
hoping to find solace
in this emptiness
but i only find malice.
hatred towards this loneliness.
I can't stand this feeling
it's all too trivial.
It's like my skin is peeling
and the atmosphere was convivial.
No one seemed to notice the struggle I had within me
because we all tend to avoid others problems,
but this was arranged differently.

I walk this trail trepidaciously, ever fearful that my next step will be the pit into which I'm confident I'll fall.
Being this pessimistic comes so easily; like the changing of the tides I go from high to low almost every single day.
Yet, I can't say that I've ever been happier.
Content to live day to day; month to month; never planning and always partying.
There's too much about which to worry and all I have is time now, so the worries flood my thoughts, overturning any left over hoes and dreams, sending them crashing to the bottom of my empty heart.
Nothing is able to grow here, as if an atomic blast razed the earth, charring its rocky surface and melting it to glass.

If the shortest distance between two points is a straight line, then why do I feel so lost driving down this path.
I have no idea where I'm going but I know that this isn't where I want to be.
Somehow it's hard for me to enjoy the moment; embrace all that is put before me, but that's okay, I need not understand this plague upon my heart and soul because wit time, the pain will be negligible.
It's strange how we believe that time heals all wounds when really we just fade out the old memories.
I guess what I'm trying to say is **** girl, I still miss you.

I remember when I could draw.
The world was my oyster and I was a king, living in the lap of luxury.
Now I'm lost, confused and terrified about everything, sitting in the gutters I used to spit in.
This isn't a plea for help, more just a cry out for the world to hear me.

That was not the experience I wanted to have.
These patterns have to break at some point, this road is barren like the forest where I lost myself.
A cloud of feuding emotions hovers over my head.
I don't know where I'm at or where I've been and everything is a distant haze.
Where does consciousness begin?
This question plagues my brain like a virus trying desperately to leech on to my emotions, manipulating them like a puppet master.
I am just a marionette, hanging from strings, the more I thrash the tighter the knots become, choking me back to reality.
Let me go, I pray, let me go.

Off like the faucet that drip drip drips in the sink at night, keeping me from my slumber.
Sleep is the only thing I ask for tonight, as I've worn myself out thinking about you.
But you don't just invade my thoughts, you invade my soul, my dreams, and that strange dark place that I call "me."
I lose myself to the dripping of the leaking faucet that'll never turn off, swept away by the presence of the moon and stars.
Although the stars are not the manifestation of my dreams, no not tonight, they are clouded and muddled by fleeting glimpses of you.
Maybe it isn't you; it doesn't look like you, or smell like you.
And then I wake up.

Maybe I am an alien.
Some extraterrestrial being, trapped here because this was the only place habitable for whatever it is that I am.
Granted, this thought posits others such as "how did I get here?"
I can't answer that.
All the photos of me when I was an infant support this alien theory.
"Look at that strange little creature there." I'll say, knowing that whatever it is, isn't me.
Not now, anyway.