Because the world was never meant to be unfolded. A sphere with horizontal illusions, ghost hands tugging the strings of its puppets. Cut the core, force it open, its life-being oozes out. Blood on your hands! The cosmos sing a siren’s song, narrating your imminent departure. Death has come knocking and you’ve reached the end of the road.
Hands reaching for the icy door ****, ignorant to your proposed actions of cowardice. A molecule of your cramped finger contacted the handle, transmittings bolts of Zeus’ mighty power through your veins, reaching the crown of your head, dropping explosions of trepidation.
The sand clock grows anorexic. Teeth chattering seizures, a panic attempt to shake off Fate’s shackles, bellowing prayers you could not initiate. Growth of perspiration a physical secretion of your anxieties, the beads forming constellations, symbolizing Death, cascaded, tracing the hollows of your cheeks, the contour of your face, the valleys of naviety, mocking the seconds sinking.
Grasp onto the latch. The future awaits you. The Three Winged Seraphs guiding their blade, stroking the String with your name, so deliciously yearning. Release my tensions.
A rebel against your demands, your hands animated to life- Come to life! rotates the mechanism, summoning the hinges to succumb.
The last grains in the sand clock streams down, descending a route of design. Envisioning a waterfall, so pristine, so innocent, so natural its intent.
The String relishes its fragility and vulnerability, purring against the caresses of the Blade. Like dead skin curling, the wings of the String spread. Expanding, preparing to take flight.
Three, two, one. The last revolutionary Will continues to fight a dying battle.
The mercenary lays his eyes upon Death.
Could Death ever look angelic? A familiar face combing through your mangled hair. From the time you were conceived into a stranger’s world, you were en route to Him. Spiting all human faith, He was the true messiah. A messiah cloaked in Lucifer’s shadow.
Innumerable anecdotes to be contrived, however has he once broken a promise? He was fair and just. Not a soul was mercilessly shut off from Him. Though He was shunned from His children, passed on from father to son through word of mouth, did he not offer paradise at the end?
Death opened his arms vowing Zion.
A matrimony.

I've often wondered
What it would be like
To die by the pen.
Hold myself down
Between paper and ink.
Turn my art against me
And be killed by my own creations.

I once saw a beautiful garden.
Between the red road and a beautiful sea,
curiosity got the better of me
and I examined all the greenery.

The flowers, with their remarkable beauty,
stands out among the rest.
Picked by everyone who passes by,
adored and treated well.
But as they grow old and wither,
used and tattered like pieces of paper,
they are thrown and replaced by another.

The trees, while not the most beautiful,
are sturdy and tall.
From a simple seed they grow,
years of patience and suffering they endured,
just for that view on the top.
But not every seed survives,
for storms can take their roots off the ground,
and take their hopes away anytime.

And then there's the grass,
lying about on the soil,
stepped on by everyone
and barely getting by.
They are not pretty nor sturdy.
They have nothing special.
But still they try.
To grow taller and taller,
so they can at least see the view,
and enjoy the breeze at the top.

And as I left the garden,
I looked back and smiled,
Because even though they're different
They live in perfect harmony.
Because they all just want to see,
the view at the top.

What once was,
no longer is.

Traffic jam on the highway
cars stopped
one hundred percent gridlock
heat waves off the asphalt

people rushing to see relatives
holiday weekend; a few hours till they see them
two hundred engines humming
flies buzzing

five hundred people waiting
wondering what they're waiting for
waiting for their wheels to turn
waiting for someone they've never seen before

their lives inconvenienced
by a traffic jam
******* up their holiday plans

when their cars finally move
and they see what made them stop
"oh dear, look at all those cops"
and an overturned tin can of a car

telling their kids to look elsewhere
shielding their eyes from the array
of a wrecked life
of a blue tarp on the highway

Their lives inconvenienced
by a traffic jam
******* up their holiday plans

but who is beneath
the blue tarp on the ground?
nobody even thinks
about what could be found

and what a disgrace
to simply be
an inconvenience
lying in the street

because humans are heartless
whether they are young or old
when their lives are inconvenienced
by a little girl's body gone cold

and for these reasons
i pray to never, ever say,
"i wish we could hurry through this traffic
because it's ******* up my holiday."

There are holes in my hands
from clenching my fists so tight
I'm feeling the non-stop misery
The memories haunt me every night

I've been defaced
I am a vandalized brick wall
Once full of beauty,
now I'm nothing at all

You took me in,
made me feel safe
Now I can't even be alone
without seeing your face

I can feel your hands
wrapping around my heart
These memories of you
are tearing me apart

This process is a long one
It's grueling, painful, and rough
Don't you realize what happened
has made my life impossibly tough?

When I'm in the shower
surrounded by white tile
I can feel your hands, see your face
And my throat burns with bile

I'm not allowed to tell
I can't talk about how I feel
Because it's your secret, too
But silence never helped anyone heal

Terrified, hyperventilating
Hands won't stop shaking
Light-headed, sobbing
My whole world is quaking

There's no way out
Because what happened was real
I have to share our secret
Because silence never helped anyone heal

i am nothing.
don't say i'm not
because i know the truth
the mirror is my proof.

i can't look at myself
straight in the eyes
because it breaks my heart
to see all of the nothing they hide.

i used to be fine
i swear it's true!
but now i'm very much not.
you can tell if you listen to my thoughts.

i
am
nothing.

i use pain
to relieve my pain
and it's all my fault
that i have nothing left to gain.

i am worthless.
i fake my smiles
i fake being okay
i'm faking, all day.

who even wants
someone like me?
there's likely a mistake
when each day i wake.

i don't deserve
to be alright
i deserve to be alone
every single night.

i
am
nothing.

i hurt so i can be okay
but it hurts.
it hurts to hurt more.
it hurts me to the core.

i

deserve

to

be

**nothing

strings were broken,
in the end


but
no one is dead as
long as
we suffer