I've been contemplating suicide,
as of late.
Not your standard,
bullet to the brain,
ending ones physical existence,
type of suicide.
No,
I'm considering something... more direful.
I'm going to commit a writers' suicide.
I'll start by deleting my various internet caches,
like the bat of an eye they'll all disappear.
Blink, blink, blink!
For extra measure,
I'll stick an Ice pick through this computer,
then sink it,
in the lake.
I'll follow that up,
by dissolving my pens in a vat of acid.
To the wood chipper!
Go the pencils.
I'll have a bonfire,
burn all the physical text I have,
and every single scrap of blank paper,
within reach.
To finish it off,
I'll break my thumbs,
pull out my own tongue.
Is a writer really alive,
without his word?

I don’t know much about war,
and I know even less about love.
Though, I do know enough, to know
that love shouldn’t feel like a war.

Yet somehow I have always felt
like a soldiers behind the battle lines
drawn in the sand by Gods
who don’t know my name.

The other day someone asked me
“How come you don’t love yourself.”
To which I replied “How can you love
the greatest enemy you have ever known?”

Maybe people like me weren’t meant for this.
I learnt the best way to protect yourself
from  broken hearts is to let yours go, and
I have let that piece of me go a long time ago.

I don’t know much about war,
and I know even less about love.
Though I know that some games
shouldn’t be played, the cost is too high.

Do people actually fall in love?
I've never wanted to dance
in the road in a rain shower
with a man so beautiful
he makes my chest hurt.

No one has ever made
my heart skip a beat,
except when it was fear.

Do people actually fall in love?
It all seems like lust to me.
Lust is such an empty thing.
Love is supposed to be warm,
Burning hot, even.
It's supposed to make you feel full.
But lust is all I see,
Like a match,
Intense and fiery,
But fleeting.

It's not love.

the moon is as longing
as I am to be the brightest
in an ocean of darkness
speckled with billions
of smudges of light
but does the moon get tired?
is that why its in love with the ocean, drowning itself
in the water every night?

do you think someone
paints your mirror?
that the color of your reflection
isn't you?
do your conversations seem
one sided?
do you realize the only
person talking
is you?

isn't there something brighter
some type of tranquil light
better than the moon at night
that can wake the dark parts
of the sidewalk to light
so I don't step into them
so I sleep right at night

everyone knows
I have a fear of the dark
It reminds me of tar
It reminds me of my mind
It reminds me of my sinking
It reminds me of your drinking
It reminds me of the *******
It reminds me
of the empty
spaces
in my chest
that are not empty,
they are somehow filled
with nothingness

It reminds me of
the feeling
when I reach out  
to grab you
and my hand
cant grasp you
can't make you understand
can't make you see what's
happening to me
how I am drowning

In something invisible