Comfortable in my confusion, cracked inside, depleted confusion,
defense of the heart, standing ground, shaking like two hearts' fusion.

Peel back, layered doubt, insisting on eternity,
Feelings lack existence, doubt buried here, uncertainty.


A fever, no a glow; Contagious? Severe? Let's go slow.

Fingers pace, twitching, life force leaving as I try to trace your face,

This isn't the place, bloodstained wonder, journal falling from an unsteady bookcase.

I read and bleed as you write about my wrongs,
A subtle stab in the not-so-dark as I try to right my wrongs.

I pretend to be happy, but each smile drops my days by one,
Begging for a shiny new thing, trade in for one that's more fun.

There's a case, a cause for a ringing alarm,
Everyone is safe - save for me, there's harm.

There's the way you make me feel,
and that's the other side of how I heal.

Snake-tongued intent, kindness it seems, forfeit.
If there's nothing left there, I can't force it.

A pool of melted memories flows down to the ground,
we enter this earth so loud, yet leave without a sound.

Sometimes I wish I didn't have ears to hear, dear,
eyes that'd be lost in a sea of salt water, effects unfounded, I fear.
I tried to multiply the designation of landed blows,
and where and when the next one happens, I'll never know.

A cushion of comfort, radius rewinding,
a stinging snakebite, un-healing, somehow reminding.
A breath, deep, swallowing rationality,
a misguided answer, pointing towards practicality.

Keep me bound, claws fixed in a fury,
bury me deep, cover these wounds in a hurry.
Pick up pieces of me leaving, chase me down as I'm retrieving,
draw a hundred different pictures, one broad brush I'm heaving.

Hands white, outlined in chalk,
Heart dark, filled in with hate-fueled talk.
Picture-perfect, broken camera, eyes red,
hate me now and love me yesterday after I'm dead.

Healing process exists, but I maybe missed the bus.
A broken cough, signs I'm sick, blink of an eye on the cusp.

I closed my eyes for the final time, or so I thought,

but god ****** me this morning, as my vision, the sun's rays caught.

We circle the days that we look forward to with invisible ink,

trigger finger, coping mechanism, drink this lead so you won't sink.

Imagine images colored all the same, pictured differently,

trying to take away the pain.

A mistake was made the day that I was claimed, revolving melodies,

that all just trade away.

Hope evolves, and then there's me not believing in evolution,

"clean up your life," but I'm just that forever pollution.

Life lives and death dies,

another day goes by and my existence is surprised.

Tempt with discovery, a new needle-tongued lie,

close my eyes, embrace the darkness, because tomorrow we will "survive."

Cling to the good, the best, maybe my childhood?

You'd think there'd be something there, a joy, a love, I wish I could.

Broad brush painting black thin lines,

Second-Hand clock retreating, trying its hardest to turn back time.

It's stuck, my luck, right here in the un-divine,

a holy disaster unfolds as this ball of yarn unwinds.

I’ve attempted to write down the things that matter most,
A message that’s meaningful, or words that will help me think,
But the light burned out, this pen ran dry of ink.
A cause, an effect, a practice makes perfect subject.
Tracing shaky steps as I fall to the floor,
A willingness to live, trapped right outside the door.

Pounding once, twice, three times on wood,
Clutch praying pearls, as a good faith measure should.
The answer comes, pouring like rain,
My issue is that I only hear them as they slip down the drain.
Punctured picture, removing my smile from old frames,
I’m in my own position, myself, my upbringing, my own thoughts to blame.

I reach for hope, not realizing that my sanity came unglued,
I settled on the incorrect decision that I’m “just fine,” and that I’ll “make do.”
Hate exists on the balance beam of what most consider love,
I consider the presence of darkness a calm, needed drug.
Dice clutched to my chest, afraid to tempt fate,
I let one stumble, and slip, to help my surrender placate.

Easy answers hidden behind the eyes of dead lies,
My decisions are mine, never cross the line, to my surprise.
Pills and promises fed to help make one believe,
Bills and an unhealthy conscious are all that my mind breeds.

There’s a reason that they don’t intertwine,
head and heart, forever war, combustion and collide.

Stalemate, ever deserving,  declares a winner,
decided by the apathy from the hands of a sinner.


To each their own until it affects what we think should be ours,
a cloud of doubt that hangs low enough beneath the storms final hours.

Sleeping sickness surrenders all that’s good and leaving nothing to begin,
I’m in too deep, gone too far, the end is too close for me to start again.


Words caressed, increasing the impression of what’s printed on my heart,
A level of compassion only exists in the form of scandalous figures and charts.

My life’s purpose seems to accommodate comedy,
sips here and gallons there, picking its poison to make itself somebody.


There are days that happen where I’d love to live in my blankets,
and others still where I can’t believe the opportunities I’ve missed.


Feed me knowledge, carefully place me there at the learning edge,
Little victories demonstrating anguish against such large defeats,
back against the wall, I do all that I can to honor my pledge,
a humbled and broken vestige of former self I’d rather not meet.


Concrete plans laid bare, gardens growing, hiding something that was never there,
this life has a tendency to always be unfair.

I've been told that dead men don't tell tales,
but even worse are those that live and scream out truth through their wails.

A bleeding heart stored on the cusp of each evenings glow,
I clap my hands at this life's end, such a terrible show.

There's pressure planted at the base of each king's throne,
a different taste, desire and let down for something more homegrown.

A rupture in space through the waves of one heart mimic,
harder and harder to face life's twists and turns by setting unreal limits.

I picture time leaned back, relaxing; testing its own struggle,
a few more breaths, here and there, is what I'm trying to smuggle.

The end of days has a commonality with that of a dial tone,
both calling out, trying to be heard, but ultimately dying alone.

Evicted emotions are the envy and the end-all of the wax and wane,
forgive and forget so that in the near future you can fall prey the same.

Disregard feelings like a dusty souvenir sitting on a high shelf pawn shop,
push on, take names, and whatever you do, never retreat or stop.

Regurgitated fears as I choke back free flowing tears,
taking another crack at your misguided attack has set me back fifteen years.

Using your wit, a bit, you must admit has helped you climb the ladder,
but wholesome, and truthfulness, no, that's an entirely different matter.

Solitude, in itself, is just another form of loneliness,
sometimes a faint smile is equal to forgiveness, I will confess.

A hundred wrong decisions, life shattered and splintered,
Cover me deeply, this coffin,  protecting me from the winter.

You can’t come here - you belong buried where heartaches seeks,
Hammer holds, reaching, bidding, pulling back life nails as they shriek.

Silence. Absolutely brutal, savage silence.
Darkness. Terrifyingly cruel, misquoted guidance.

There’s time for me yet, even as I bow at the last curtain call,
at the end of this life, no regrets, no mistakes, “I lived” as a reply all.

Minor memories stir up old trouble behind closed eyelids,
a silly mistake here, a proper reply there, it’s just what we did.

Shut out, bow down, a troubled childhood led to substantial grief,
Hold on, power through, persevere it’ll be brief.

Death held my hand which is such a sad way to live,
His bony fragmented clasp, helped me learn to forgive.

I’ve practiced what you preached, always hoping it was correct,
In the end, I was wrong, because it’s my life that you wrecked.