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John Sep 2014
The city inside my head
never sleeps.
When I go to bed, the noise
doesn't cease.
Rapists and murderers
roam the streets.
Taking advantage of anyone,
anything and they won't leave.
Leaving me no choice but
lock away my key.
Never to be touched again,
no more me.
John Sep 2014
Scratching my head
And my thoughts
With this fine lead
Thinking I ought
To quit already
It doesn't do too much
Good
John Sep 2014
Everyone is born
chained
to their own
personal mountain
of despair.

For, in suffering,
we learn
compassion.
We learn
gratitude.
We learn
to cope.

We are catapulted
from our comfortable
homes,
and into the pit
where we learn
the meaning
of
breathing.
John Sep 2014
Now I don't
know why,
can't explain
it.
It's like this
feeling inside me
that grows with
each passing day.
Gradually and surely
increasing in intensity
until
                                           splat!

Brain's on the
                                                                ­                                                         wall.
The red
really complements
the green
paint.
It looks like
Christmas
only a little
more ******
up.
John Sep 2014
I've spent a lifetime
bathing in pools of sweat.
Thought you were my lifeline.
You prove me wrong again, and again.
My head spins as I slowly rise.
Always thought it would be different.
Used to call you "my prize".
But one thing I've never been is wise.

Constantly fooling myself left.
My body always throws me off track.
Veering around to the side I thought right.
Walking into white light that just goes black.

Listening to other people never did me much good.
Their words swim in my brain like vengeful parasites.
Influencing me to do things they think I should.
But everyone is selfish as the days turn to nights.
I've learned to find it in my to power through the ****.
Even as my Sun burns out, I still fight the fight.
Even as my everything falls deep down that pit.
Even as my darkness is eating all my light.
John Sep 2014
rot
rotting
festering
rotting
rotting
perpetually
spinning
decaying
d­issolving
disgusting
dormant
coagulating
coats
still
freezing
fry­ing
drying
stinking
encompassing
stench
rotting
boiling
rotting
r­otting
dying
John Sep 2014
I feel cheated.
Plain and
Simple.
The fact that
We, as a whole,
our entire culture
is based around schooling.
Being taught by people
who don't want
to be here.
Who don't
get paid enough
and don't
get any recognition
for what they do.
Teachers.
They're treated
as people who are
replaceable.
The same people
who shape us
from very,
very
young ages all the way
up to adulthood.
Molding and providing
framework that our
brains
form around.
They don't care.
Sure,
some do.
There are some really great
people out there
who study with a
passion.
A passion to help
others
on their journey to
enlightenment and
expanding the minds
of the young.
Helping them to see
and to hear and to experience
things with a
questioning disposition.
But then there are the
fed up,
the tired,
the angry,
the mentally strained,
who enter classrooms
with a mindset
that just isn't compatible
with what we,
as young people,
need to nourish our
minds and souls.
They don't think
about how our forming
psyches
can be affected
by people who
are unpleasant,
people
who are doing
what they're doing
just to get by.
No second
thought
of how their teachings,
and their way of going about it
is affecting us as whole,
as a society
and a culture.
Planting seeds
of dislike
and of hesitation
when they should be
preparing us
for the wonders
and the joy
and the expansiveness
that awaits us
on this organic,
floating ball
of water and of
Earth.
Hurtling through
space
and time
with no breaks
and with no real
comprehension
of what
is actually occurring
around us.
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