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Sour Patched Kid Dec 2018
we walk in darkness,
faintly but agile,
dodging puddles
and strangers
whose gaze is uncomfortable

we play games
with ourselves
that we just can't win.
we try to bend the rules
but instead just bend ourselves.

we lose ourselves in art:
the only thing that's real.
because the connections we make
are hurried and fake.
affection is *** appeal.

we inquire and murmur
hoping the other has an answer
to our questions of self doubt.
we jump off the bridges we build,
and hope they burn with our regrets.

we search for souls
replete with love,
knowing **** well
love is an empty concept
to all the broken people
Sour Patched Kid Dec 2018
we both see red,
but my red isn't your red,
and the doctors tell me there is no "red" at all.

i'm counting the days.
my numbers make them numbered,
and i'm just growing number.

i'm calling on the angels
to have faith in something more than memories.
suffering from loss because i remember "me"

the end isn't far.
i can't tell "end" from "END",
but right now i would settle for either.
Sour Patched Kid May 2018
i've tried
to find
the light
it leads
where does
this end
do i
the end
the search
to be
is so
to me
it fades
to coal
we work
for cash
to pay
bills and
take pills
is all
that does
but to
me it
at all
i have
no faith
in gods
or gems
no joy
in tales
or hymns
there is
no love
to be
felt here
like a
dog I
see in
shades of
grey now
no high
is worth
the climb
no words
are worth
the rhyme
i will
soon be
for the
last time
Sour Patched Kid Apr 2018
wait for the best day.

the best day
**** yourself
your birthday
because your
loved ones
will only be forced to think about
your suicide
once per year

(your birthday comes.

you eat cake and smile.
you drink, dance, and forget you're suicidal.
you wake up the next morning
back in the suicidal mindset
but knowing you have to wait
364 days.

you wait 364 days.)

repeat until death
Sour Patched Kid Mar 2018
Home was wherever you were
Now home lies on treasure maps
"Ex" marks the spot
So I travel and I dig
but all I dig up is rot
Home is still a treasure
I've just lost the key
Sour Patched Kid Mar 2018
Someone or something hurts, and then walls.
So towers tall the ground around you
You're at the bottom of a hole.
Higher or digging depths, it's all the same.
You build beneath you.
Sour Patched Kid Mar 2018
I sparked a cigarette and painted my faults with gasoline.
I steadied my limbs and summoned the guillotine.
Never had I pondered that love was so subtle.
Never had I wandered so far from rebuttal.
It's funny how feelings themselves whimper when they're so animated.
Had I known any better I would have stayed for sedation.
Tell me something that echoes so profound.
Tell me something that forever makes a sound.
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