Each night before I lay down,
I swallow four little pills,
two white ones, one yellow one
and one blue one

About fifteen minutes later,
my mind starts to mumble,
Then I stumble into defeat.
Eyes heavy and vision cloudy

My brain is seeking answers,
my fingers start to feel tingly.
The room slowly closes
in on me.

My emotions cease to exist,
tapping slowly on the wall.
I implode with fear
and still I seek no answers

Four little pills
plays dodgeball inside my brain
FOUR LITTLE ******* PILLS
I   I   I   I
I don't know who I am anymore

Cascading down the tunnels,
through damped corridors I go,
It doesn't stop.
Burnt flesh and tempation gone
I left my mind
on a ceramic plate
Then it shatters

Four little pills
disappeared inside of me
No reflection in the mirror to see
I am no longer in your presence
Its time to go

Society's forgotten are covered
in a diluge of lost time
and blue,
with shadows that lurk on broad shoulders
so true.

Their fractured thoughts drift
through the silent city alleyways,
only to be swallowed whole
then they vanish without a whisper

Our eyes turn away
and our minds are turned off
when their haunting voices
ring in the distance,
Shhh listen to the soft echoes slowly fade

With no end in sight,
we seek vengence and violence.
Slammed down with tired thoughts,
laying naked on the black.top,
not a single gaze

Lightning strikes the innocent down,
fracturing the mantle of time,
Struck by the sound
it echos lies and lives
But we leave them to die alone

Someone else will pick up the pieces,
Swept up in the tragedy of life,
It is the fractured souls
that we throw away and
We don't remember them anymore

I sit here in delusions
surrounded by burnt fuses,
and mindless conclusions.
I am taken back and wondering
through this trauma world.

I can't see through
my black and blue eyes,
I can only feel the blood
and the tears dripping down
my weathered face

Wrapping up the physical
and emotional wounds
that embrace my soul,
they do not heal,
They only keep me safe.

I live inside this trauma world
all by myself, alone.

Limping through these
struggles of life,
I tripped over those moments
I am trying to forget.
I relive those events
over and over again.
So make them go away.

I will continue to sit here
with these delusions,
mindless in my own trauma world
I start to disengage.
But when do I pull the fuse?

it is patently obvious that the HP site's server
isn't functioning
well
as the 502 Bad Gateway notification
does regularly
tell

the webmaster hasn't yet repaired
the faulty connection at his
end
and in not doing so he's losing many
a poetry writing
friend  

with the ongoing problem
being left
unresolved
how can his ill attention to the matter
ever be
absolved

sooner rather than later the poets
will desert the
place
for they'll grow tired of the message
constantly hitting them in the
face