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anon May 2011
He's composed of a list of missed opportunities,
The unseen kid in a house in your community.
Trying to find solace in a room all alone,
Yet he can't keep his eyes from staring at the phone.

Another hollow body searching for human connection,
Got sidetracked in a whirlwind of misdirection.
He'd pick up if only there was someone on the line,
Friends, family, **** even the police would be fine.

The time ticks away like he has too much of it,
It's weighing him down, he's gonna get crushed to bits.

Take some. You look like you could use it.
Boil it down, shoot it up, and abuse it.
Cook it up, swallow it down, and consume it.
Put it down, throw it up, **** it.
Lose it.

Sometimes he feels like good will is dead,
And all that remains is a void in their head.
Eroded through time by people around them,
He feels himself turning into those that surround him.
anon Mar 2011
You can't fight yourself without losing.
Lost in this haze of constant confusion.
Are you human? So you know what I mean,
fighting temptation is as hard as it seems.

So this is the battle between emotion and logic.
Rewinding back like, "Is this real or a card trick?"
Oil slick. Static seeping in my mental navigation,
refusing to cut the ties to your connotation.

You read the last chapter now read the beginning.
You can't figure out if you're losing or winning.
Are you kidding? You lost track years ago.
Inattentive, glazed eyes pointed out the window.

An ultimatum emerged knocking on your front door.
Your words used as weapons caught in civil war.
Killing floor. Visual spectacle merely invented.
Armors the shell of your steam-powered persistence.

These days the wind blows so turbulent,
Natures influence forms dramatic events.
Circumvent. Form yourself a fate of your own.
Discard your words; pick up sticks and stones.

— The End —