In my darkest nightmare
Poets will have grown old
Working 12 hour shifts inside of factories,

Filling lungs with poison,
Hands becoming crippled beyond use of pen.
And heads having grown misshapen ideas;

Of their dreams having been nothing more
Than reminisce of childhood imagination
Left to bloom too wild.

This boy’s life, the grand dark comedy!

What a show! What a spectacle!

A play unknown to him!

Watch as he is kicked! And stabbed!

And Choked!

By those thought to be friends!

Wardens disguised as family!

Murderers under the guise of friendship!

Vampires disguised as lovers!

Dark comedy so true!

What life!

What art!

What reality!

What a sight indeed,

All must see!

Come and watch, or even more;

Contribute!

Give him just enough hope, then strike him down!

He won’t catch on, he never does!

Blinded by hopes and dreams,

Things he will never achieve!

Kick him, claw him, it was his purpose!

He does not understand his value!

The star of the truest life there is!

As the cosmos watch,
The darkest comedy!

Smoking a cigarette with the Schizophrenic Socrates.

He tells me I'm being childish; young.

Few ways past that-- and good!

Growth!, Growth!, Natural growth!

Childishness and impish hormones--such inspirations!

Motivations until the paling end!

How stupid, how dumb,

How backwards I had it then-- Good!

A new lesson flourishing!

Sad destruction by his standards; perspective!

New reasons to speak, finding reason to grow!

Groom! Growth! Groom!

Loudness and disorder, Anarchy! Freedom!

Freedom of tongue and mind! Broken back, broken arms, broken neck! Purpose!

Loitering and loathing! End your voyage laughing!

Curiosity has been struck, tell them to be young, tell them to be middle aged, and old, dead! Immortal!

The observation of self must continue past myself!

Study me!

Study yourself!

Always!