In room 214B
As far as I can see
Stuck in my mind,
And my bed’s binds,
Lacking mental affinity.

Respiration is a curse.
My mind just makes it worse.
It creates these tiers
Of endless fears,
And inspires my every verse.

I know my life is ending,
My heart has not the mending
It needs to live,
And only gives
Away the time I’m spending.

Can’t waste my breath on crying.
All hope is only lying.
I hear my fate,
Outside he waits,
As the strings of fate are tying.

So in room 214B
I’ll know, by Death’s decree,
I’m out of time,
So I’ll write my rhymes,
Awaiting my darkest infinity.
A void that steals my humanity
In room 214B.

Ideas flow
Through my head
Like voices.

When I write,
There are many.
A group.

In the dark,
There is one,
Alone.

When I work,
There are none.
Void.

But when I sleep,
They are one.
Log.

The Lifter,
Up.
He questions,
Up.
He wonders
Why
He lives.
The Lifter,
Down.
The top.
The falls.
The end
Of rope
He pulled.
Grab hold.
Look up.
He sees
The top.
The Lifter,
Twice,
He falls.

All are made of porcelain-
Or on the surface, at least.
Like masks of glass,
Where beliefs pass,
Leave hidden truths bequeathed.

All are made of porcelain,
Their fragile faces strong.
The truth, it hurts;
They lie the worst,
Yet nil be there all-ong.

-Eat of the Fat.
But for why?
-Because you have to feed.
Drink of the sweet.
-But for why?
Cause your gluttony is greed.
-Save a portion.
But for why?
-Because your fruitlessness is nigh.
-So save a portion.
But it’s mine.
-Then all of them will die.

I remember it all, actually.
More than I'd like to have.
I remember waking up to
The scent of breakfast
I’d soon find was made for one.

I remember walking down
The stairs to lock eyes with you
As you were opening the door.
I remember the feeling
Of dread that crushed me
Under its weight as
I understood your gaze.
I don’t remember being sick.

Even though you were gone,
I remember the dark shade of
Canary that reflected from
The plate in front of me and
Tinted our home.
I don’t remember the lights being broken.

I remember hearing your voice
Call me from our room.
I remember the sharp ringing that
Endlessly reflected off the
Carpet walls of our home
Despite the silence.
I don’t remember picking up the fork.

I remember when
My senses returned to me.
When I was cured.
When the lights were fixed.
When I put the fork down.
I remember the
World refusing to warp any longer.
I remember the scent of
A breakfast made for one.
Your final gesture of kindness.
I don’t remember deserving it.

I remember sitting.
I remember eating.
I remember the
Overwhelming taste of guilt,
The taste of wetness,
The taste of salt.
I remember the taste of
French toast.
Though,
I don’t remember crying.