Today I saw my house burn to the ground when it flashed before my eyes while putting out a fire in the tenants bathroom downstairs.

Yesterday I thought about what it would be like to shoot myself in the head on the drive home.
I thought of it with no intent to actually harm myself,
but because I was thinking about how fast life goes.
Being born's like when you pull the trigger,
and when the bullet hits you, you die.
There's some time in between, but not much.
It's that fast.

Oh, the fire is gone,
my life crackles,
like the last embers.
Burning bright,
exploding high,
they glow and they dim and they die.
Their last life blows into the night,
and disappears as I lay asunder.
In my smoldering ruins,
I cry,
as my tears evaporate off my charcoal cheeks.
Covered in soot,
I fizzle and die.
Tomorrow,
my ashes will burn.

It's those long nights,
waiting for the sun to rise.
Waiting and praying,
for it to come a little quicker.
The black keeps getting blacker,
and I'm falling
out,
     out,
          out,
               and up.
Which will rise first?
The sun or my soul?

I can feel the pull,
a gentle tug with every shallow breath,
gentle but sharp.
Every word,
like a knife,
a little more pressure every time,
agonizingly slow.

Plunge it into my heart,
push it deeper,
push it all away.
These long nights,
I just wanna push,
and when it falls,
the moon from the sky,
so will I,
so will I.

Then the sun will rise,
and I'll be ****** to do it again.
I can feel a tug,
gentle but sharp.

All my life I've been looking for a shepherd,
someone to guide a broken soul.
But all I found was that I looked like a *****,
couldn't find someone who'd come close.

There were people who told me to take drugs,
some people said they'd be a home,
but when supports cracked and I got too heavy,
that's when I'd find myself alone.

Some days were grey and some bled colors,
some days I just couldn't stay warm.
Some days, insufferable, clouds hung heavy,
over my head, they stormed and stormed.

But I soaked it in,
so I could feel low,
so every time I tumbled,
I'd surely know,
that it can't get much worse than this,
that it can't get much worse than this,
that it can't get much worse than this.

All my life,
I've been looking at a *****,
but I am my shepherd,
I am my shepherd.

Heaps of metal and memories,
they tore my old school down today.
The echoes of our laughter once contained in the halls,
is now free to fly with the breeze,
and our aspirations and dreams may touch the sky.
For those in the dirt and those still alive,
whether friends of mine or distant minds,
though our memories flutter like butterflies,
they will always be in this heart of mine.

My heart is quicksand,
everything's sinking in.
I'm tangled in the wires I hardwired to my brain and I'm about to short circuit.
Yesterday,
I lost 4 poems in the wash,
washed away my memories,
like a wave crashing on the shore of my brain,
dragged away the footprints.
Maybe that's why I'm short circuiting,
water and electrical wires don't mix.
But here I am,
an electrical storm in my head,
untamed,
much like myself.
Contained,
in my head,
much like myself.