We're all slowly dying
The same
Elusive
Death.
Bang bang,
Gunshots sound out-
The anthem for an
Adolescent world
Full of ancient morals
And tear-soaked pillows

Should I but drift cross the street
Like a tattered pamphlet that
Could only be used for the first week:
For a fraction of the cost.

Should I but lay upon the floor
As if I was a simple throw
Destined to lay at the feet of those
Who thrive on what they know.

Should I but fall onto the side
Of a dense and forested path
Then I would know how it is to live
Without fear of turning back.

Should I but wake before I die
And renounce my elusive doom
Only then would my mind lie
Peacefully beneath my tomb.

There's a ceremony taking place
Within my sorid mind-
I scratch my nails against my face
For fear of making sound

With each step I take, my feet grow cold
As if frozen by the the night
And something more that is only told
By the ever present sky.

A bell will toll now, so they say.
I lay my ears to the floor
Yet all I hear is yesterday
Beat up against my mind.

The thudding of a distant fate
Is nothing more than the past
Too old to unlock the pearly gate
That encompasses my soul.

I heard a band come matching in
With merry dying tunes
For instead of joy that does begin
My heart did stop- and boom.

I saw a dying light go out
And vanish with the wind
As my mind flooded with empty doubt
For fear of ne'er seeing it again.

I felt a gentle hand reach forward
Wrapping around my throat
While my arms still flailed and pushed out toward
The shore- as my body rose to float.

The bell did toll a solemn boom
That silent, shrouded night-
I laid my head upon my tomb,
Relinquishing my sight.

How sweet the silhouette of death
Upon the vacant sky
Encompassing my heavy breath
As I heave a final sigh.

Every moment, we are wasting away-
Our poor, dejected ambitions
Float empty
Atop a sea of partially sane intentions
Kept by a god
With a pension for deceit.
Tick tock,
Crazy never comes on time-
And three sneezes mean an unsuspected
Guest. Dilapidated hours
Wear thin
As they desperately reach to cover
The long, convoluted skeleton
Of youth.
Remnants of the past prevail,
Buried deep beneath
Cedar floors and $50 graveyard slots,
In all it's half attainable glory,
Strewn out across
A marble coffin,
Like heavy dice
Waiting to tumble down
Into reality.
The old bell tower,
Cracks and screeches
Her unrequited laments
To the indifferent sky-
Every evening at 5:01.
With each hollow ring,
Age seeps through our pores,
Mixing in and diluting our dreams,
Sinking down into the deepest crevice of our
Contorted being. Tick
Tock, time can only dance if there's a rhythm:
The beating of our hearts
Sounds on, vibrating off
The hollow cavity
Which should hold something
Living. Nothing's real here,
As our insignificant lives
Race each other down the dim and slippery
Hallway that is life.
Until sooner or later,
One by one,
We all lose our footing
And fall down the rabbits hole
To meet something like
Death- the only evidence that we were ever
Alive.
Hour hands reach out from their miniature sphere:
A cyclical world full of half past ten
And white empty spaces between
Vacant numbers,
Grasping our warm
Pulsing bodies,
And pulling us closer
Towards something almost like The End-

Tick tock,
Russian Roulette is only lucky
Until it's over.

Sleep
Tugs seductively
On my
Racing
m
i
  n
   d.
Nothing
Grows
Here.
Smiles twist and
Seizure
Until they collapse
Into
A
C/o/n/t/o/r/t/e/d pile
Of something like
A grimace-
(But not quite).
My heavy
b r e a t h i n g
Reminds me that      my heart
Has yet to surrender to
The toxic fumes
Rampant in my thoughts.
Eagerly I inhale them,
Something like     knowledge
But, with a pain
ful kick. It's
Never easy to fil
ter thoughts that are thick
Like molasses,
(And just as Sweet).
Bang,
B ang,
You're dead,
Just like the rest
Of them-
Body still w
arm. Pulses
Still audible,
Yet
s l o w l y
Fading. Who
Will save you
(Now)?
I'm far too gone
In a land of
Make believe
To press down upon
You
r (gaping) wounds
And dated dreams.
Oh,
Doesn't it feel
Something like
Lo ve?
when you're lying
On your death bed
Waiting
For the pastor
To come in and slowly murmur one last prayer
To save you from some
thing too difficult
To understand
With
Out
Faith and a poor
Conscience-
B/a/n/G
,bang
You're off
Onto another journey
That can only ex
ist when
You
   Blow
     Your
        Brains
out, and replace them
With ideals pre
made by the same
Precise hands
That cut
The deli
Lunch meat-

Intelligence has evadade you
As you allow what you think you want to slowly degrade your views,
Nothing that fades away can ever be true,
For even the old used to be new.

What do you look for in love: nice assets and a face you can trust,
Becuse anything sparkles when it's covered in rust.
Sentiment and intellect were devoured by lust,
And the only way to the top is made up of dust.

Social scenes and social queens
Require more costume than Halloween.
Who wants to be stuck at seventeen?
If you're not surrounded by faces, who will hear you scream?

You engrave your expectations on the palm of your hands,
Open them up to God, and plead for romance.
For prayers only function as a form of demands
That look no further than tomorrow nights plans.

Who you know and how you're perceived,
Cascades and tumbles down over your beliefs.
Temptation wasn't as easy for Adam and Eve;
Their apple held more than your money trees.

Now there's nothing left but a rotten core,
And casual small talk spilled out upon the floor,
Seeping in and out of the wooden pores,
Across scattered feet, too numb to implore.

Afraid of the concept of being alone,
You only accept what is already known,
Living for the weekend so your efforts are atoned,
Like David and Goliath, you have to stone or get ******.

Bloodshot eyes and vacant stares, too deliberate not to go anywhere,
Because sentiment means nothing to a generation who doesn't care
About anything that holds less weight than the air,
Unless it's about what you should wear.

So bottle up your empty dreams and aspirations,
Throw them to sea: an intellectual evacuation,
You'll see more like them under medication,
Because fitting in requires social sedation.