It's like your sitting beneath the ocean
Trying to aim high at the sky
But your tiny bed feels like a graveyard
When you're surrounded by erasers
All blunt from erasing the truth and sharpening your sorrow laden hollow
Please ignore the fighting, and put on your headphones
Drown in the recoil of your existence
Do you mind the talking or is it everything?
That chokes you into anger
Please sound the alarms, wasted on deficit
Does it help to be wasted under the velvet day
Are you looking for a new place to begin?
You start by getting up from your bed

An empty hallway is

I drew a face of a late night
On the back of a raindrop, waved it goodbye
It'll be back before breakfast, wearing something elixir, in heartbreak
Soothing some hymns about the rivers, she has been through
Standing here, caressesing the mild wind to show them way
Standing here, it has to dread the death, the rust
It has to feed the rain, while coming back before breakfast
And before long it's dark, another day wasted in self inspection
And planning before comes the junction of conduction and the train to my show
A stunning resolution
I drew a face of my heart
On the back of skipping stones heavier than the moon

Today, it's the sunrise o'er the tallest building
I lied about the doctors appointment I never had
And my dad ******* it up
I was caught with a knife and Julius was on the floor
Wasted in self neglect, maybe she should work more
And I was caught by the sunset by the cops
They wore clown uniforms with a centripetal appeal
Then I heard the sounds from my side
It was a thunder struck, or a ******* blow to my consciousness

Could you fathom the grounds beneath shrieking city?
Or the regret behind the spoken promises over nights of insomnia
I'll trade my conjuring comfort for some clarity
I must agree, it's unique
Being the powerless protagonist in your own story

Wake up wake up, I dreamt a dreamer
Woven in silver, jewellery like the two trees
She offered me some relief away from my panic
I told her, "I'm starving, I need your peace"
She glitches into oblivion, left me twitching in my misery

I lit a thin green candle (to start a poem)
Under the coming storm, faith has dealt me a knight
So give back my keys
I must open the gates for your peace
Maybe then I'll get some sleep
Or my conjuring comfort calling quit
And we all will be doomed, washed behind big hospital with matching socks,
Knocked by purple morphine, pink tic-tacs
Still then I bet we won't be asleep