I've nothing to offer
but
my simple writing on papers.

There is man in the first floor of the building,
we lend him our eyes because he'd got no use for our ears.
He tells life with vivid motions, stories through fingers and expressions;
he's got a joy for life and it's apparent from his actions.
He puts me to shame as I try to convey life with all this intricate words;
I say meretricious, he waves his hand away
I say despondent, he shakes his head in dismay
I say exuberance, but all he has to do is smile.

There's a savant in the first floor of the building.
He's merry and jolly,
reminding everyone with a gentle smile that
sometimes words are not enough, reminding us that
although the pen is mightier than the sword
actions speak louder than words.

Last night I dreamt I committed suicide;
and it wasn't beautiful or poetic
it simply was yet another death.
I felt boneless and dizzy as I awoke on the dawn
of yet another day.
The sun shone through cracks in my window but
relief never came of not having that dream real.

Last night I forgot to sleep, I forgot to feel;
and I didn't toss around my bed but laid
as a corpse does in his casket.
I felt numb and yet somehow disappointed
of not having someone to scare away this beast.
This beast that clings to my body like a second skin,
this beast which eats away my sun,
this beast that grows with the ennui of life,
this beast which spits on raw wounds of my flesh.
It keeps me caged,keeps me inside,
belittling me and snickering just when I have managed
to get a foot out the door-
so I step back in and close it firmly shut.

Last night I prayed to anyone who would listen
and it was poignant and pathetic because
I awoke to another bright day of laughter from my peers
and I could do nothing but stare from a faraway place
with white noise stuck in my head.

To my first follower,
for taking the courage to click on the tab.
To my first like,
for taking precious moments reading my design.
To the ones who followed after,
for taking notice of my mind in pixelated patterns.
To all who shall come after,
I won't ignore the precious deed.

Thank you for the ones who stayed
as well as those who could not take any more of this ****.
I know I am depressing, banal and even dull at times but
for each and everyone of you who thinks I am worth a heart;
I could not have asked for a better companion who shares
this lovely craft.

Let's continue awhile longer,
reading and writing
listening and trying
and since this is getting a bit tacky I'll end it here
remind all of you that I appreciate that seemingly simple click.

Welcome to the ugly subconscious of a comedian.

Who killed of his stained memories to stop the crowd from laughter.

I'm too sleepy and too tired

But I write this so that
someone else can get inspired to write.

Are the people you want to die
More than those you need to revive?

What are friends for..
Let's hangout
Having fun
leaving the outside world figure itself out
Try and fit in
Be the opposite of yourself
You're loved for who you're not
And hated for your great mutations
Filled with void of perfect hypocrisy
Would you keep me in your memory?
I'll shelter you and be your apology

You still didn't call
Probably busy sitting on a chair
But I understand..

I was killed by my kindness
And my pride got buried
Called me your *****
In front of your friends
And yes I was..
Fulfilling your deficiencies
But doesn't end well
I took your life
Cause mine never existed
It was always kept in a shell

I'M SICK OF IT ALL!
One pull away...
Until i climb up the sky
Because curiosity killed the cat
And taught the dog in me how to act
Washed away my misery with a 70cl bottle of Jack
My Mom always says I'm a good listener
But its always the darkness that listens to me, best
Even though i'm afraid of it
I still feel that it sits close to me
Makes sure i'm good and takes good care of me
The voices get louder every time I sleep
Some laughs sound like screams
And some cracks make me bleed
I whisper and mumble
I don't want to wake them up with my rumble
But I've welcome these strangers
Without them I am weak
I feed off of them
Like an opportunistic parasite
I no longer know, what's me
My reflection is nothing but a memory  
  
I'm numerical with myself
No one else
Only me, myself, I
And the guy , providing this to your eyes.