I wanted to simply
Know all of something

I knew I could not
Except in something small

I found the answer
Realized my desire

I learned all about nothing

...

Is that possible?
Does that make it something?

can I see your scars
he said to me
touching my shirt

my cheeks turned pink
I was dizzy
and embarrassed

his pale lips touched them gently
he smiled

It hits in waves.

To begin,
it throws a right jab
(the lack of energy
with a hefty dose of insomnia.)

Next,
it follows up with a nasty left hook
(the irritability)
(the self-doubt)
(the mood swings)
(the paranoia.)

And finally,
it finishes you
a mean right uppercut
with those bone-crushing
cataclysmic
abysmal
angry
angsty
blues.

Gripped by a dark world,
NO hope
NO light
and most painfully
NO LOVE.

Regardless of how hard
you search
you know
it can only be taught to you again
because you don't recognize it anymore
it is a blank spot now.

You knew you would have to pay the price
to experience such a sensation
and you'd heard of the stories of how it
changed people
but you still craved that excitement
of the unknown
the forbidden fruit
and you had your taste
but it consumed you too
until now,
you're fighting the beast
that threatens to
overthrow the true you.

This is a fight you must not lose.

My poor generation
we're drowning in the *******
we're buying into the tasty lies.

We're born and raised
believing we can do what WE want
and so few realize
sure,
we CAN do what WE want
BUT, should we?
Should we question ourselves?
I believe we should
because how can you be so sure
in a rapidly transforming world like ours?

That's why I say
We are the Lost generation
Lost amongst the pretty lights and fun
shoved down our throats since birth.

It's all we know
we lost Compassion
and embraced Greed.

Look,
we're being ******
and we have to realize
we're ******* ourselves.

Everything’s wrong.
Going to a sub par school for a liberal arts degree
That I’m not sure I want or even need.
Drinking alone at night, six nights a week.
Lying in bed for hours waiting for some sort of nocturnal relief.
Failure at ***. Failure at friends. What stories do I have to tell my uncared for grandchildren?
All I have is a brain of useless trivia and shameful memories I would give anything to erase.
My past is embarrassing, my future’s depressing, and my now seems pointless.
Really, what’s the use?

The whiskey on your breath
Could make a small boy dizzy;
But I hung on like death:
Such waltzing was not easy.

We romped until the pans
Slid from the kitchen shelf;
My mother's countenance
Could not unfrown itself.

The hand that held my wrist
Was battered on one knuckle;
At every step you missed
My right ear scraped a buckle.

You beat time on my head
With a palm caked hard by dirt,
Then waltzed me off to bed
Still clinging to your shirt.