Little pieces of nothing that fall and belong to no one and nowhere. If I find my way into the earth then let the worms and maggots have their share. I'm okay and not. For I am alive but I do not care. Sometimes I think I'm better off dead than to be alone with despair.
Little pieces of nothing that are weathered and worn.
A life never nurtured since the day it was born.
I have not been given so I have nothing to give, but
little pieces of nothing and no reason to live.

I'm not delusional.
I'm insane.
I have amnesia,
or is that my name?
I must have caught
the crazy reason train,
or it could be my loco motive brain.

I am a dark illumination.
Ficticious realization.
A monotonous mutation of
united segregation.
An evolutionary creation.
A negative affirmation.
Loyal to indifferent dedication.
A fan of natural artificial insemination.
A victim of ignorant education.
A truthful illusion or factual delusion.
Either way this begins my conclusion.

The pain that caused my bane,
Resides mainly in my brain,
but in order to remain sane
I must maintain my hearts
burning flame never let it wane,
for it contains the vein that sustains...
my life and some kind of hope.

Lately
I've tried desperately to delete me.
I guess it's not really up to me
to successfully destroy what i did not create.

Truly
I do not take this life lightly.
O.k. maybe I do slightly.
Because sometimes I feel like a mistake.

Forgive me
This is not the best side of me.
Only the side that really hates me.
On my soul it feeds and is never slaked.

Believe me
If I could control this I would be.
Because I'm not into hating me.
But now it's much too late.

For everything I hear and everything I see,
tells no one here loves me but pain and grief.
For all the love I've given and all the love I've had.
A darker remnant I am now of
just a man eternally sad.

Lying in the begonia field of my mind,
an answer to "One Simple Question"
is hard to find.
That " One Simple Question" put to mankind
that leads me to believe that some are blind.
That "One Simple Question" I heard her ask,
for which the a answer is a simple task.
So why is it so difficult to put on our gloves
and answer that " One Simple Question"...
simply with love?

I try to speak from my heart,
but there's no "heart" from which to speak.
This mass of muscle residing within my chest,
is only there to keep me alive at best...
for it is tired and weak.

I try to speak my mind,
but it drowns in a sea of hydrangea.
Perhaps it serves me well as an anesthesia...
to dull the pain that wreaks.

I try to speak with my hand,
but the words won't come out right.
Early stages of arthr won't allow me
to  write... for he contorts its speech.

I try to speak with my mouth,
But my tongue has been tied.
Like the heart with no love.
The mind devoid of thought.
The hand without muse...
all have died.