I had a vegetarian steak.
It wasn't horrible,
But it wasn't great.
I'm in a vegetative state.
Not really living,
Not really dead.
Cocooned in silk.
Waiting to molt into
Some thing of a greater ilk
-don't think I ever will-
Diamond encrusted shackles
Glimmer pretty in sunlight,
But I can't wipe tears away from my eyes. I have no joys,
No fears, no meassage,
No thoughts worth thinking anymore.
Vessel broken, I'm sinking into depression more and more. I have suffered, as we all have. I have struggled, as we all still do. We are the same, but I cannot connect to any one of you. What do I have left? Music, women, drugs, poetry, TV, liquor; all the distractions are pointless now. As i stare off into space reminiscing simpler times, I realize, I never really named the voice in my head. I can't mourn it now that it's dead.
Life is a paper plane in space flying toward the sun.

I'm in trouble....

Eyes:
The glimmer has dulled.
In the winter
We curled together
Hopeful that summer would melt our frozen hearts.
Cryogenics never quite took off; forever is nothing to scoff at. How are we to spend eternity when this quarter century has already lasted too long? We listen to the same songs on repeat- we know the words but forgotten how to tap our feet. Asymptotic lives forced to come close but never meet. Summer is here. Our hearts were never really frozen, that's just what they told us. And to come together is to burn alive- Salem witch trials- mediocre minds know extraordinary vileness. Nights I wake up drenched in sweat wondering what could have been. I play our songs half hoping to be frozen in memory. I reach and reach, but touch only air. Heavy, humid air. Always choking on ghostly emotions. Rain clouds come round but nothing falls. Existential drought. Bodies fall,
Silent
Under the sun.
The unaffected
Play on the beach
And have fun.

Life is a million little deaths,
I'm not sure how many I have left.
Lonely nights I've wept and dreamt for reprieve. God has one too many tricks up his sleeve. Talking doesn't ease the pain, it only distributes it across multiple planes of emotion. How do I feel? The better question is, "How does one survive being stranded in the ocean? You hope and pray; That is the way. Place your faith in the thought, "Some other day it will be ok." Don't mind me I'm dying- a bird flying against the wind, never moving, unable to win. Writing is a practice in futility now. I ramble on about the same problems. A fly crashing into Windows, unable to solve them. A million deaths before we get to live. We take a million breaths before we learn to give. I could create universes with this nib, but instead I ***** and complain about my circumstances.
How does one stop?

I can't hold my liquor;
I'm not a lightweight, I literally can't hold the bottle, but I can hold a battle with my demons for the remainder of the night. It's not an anger that consumes me, It is fear. I'm afraid of us and for us. I can't hold my liquor, but the fear doesn't sway, it's simply numb, like dentists drilling your teeth after a shot of novacane. Frank Ocean plays in the background. My soul is fragmented across multiple songs and melodies that's why I drop to my knees and sob uncontrollably- the memories come rushing back. I've forgotten what it's like to feel except through other people's art. I'm afraid I can't be whole. I can't hold my liquor, and as I walk outside I see a dead cat boiling on tarmac still hot from the Texas summer. And the birds are free, but they can't fly against the wind, that is where salvation lies and that's the catch. I'm afraid the mortal condition can never be cured, even in death. I can't hold on to hope, but the bottle is within arms reach, I just need a better grip.

As the world sleeps,
I creep through empty streets
And darkened alleys.
Need a cure for maladies of the soul.
Luckily, some guy in skinny jeans,
a L.A. fitted and Nikes provides.
I don't dream anymore, reality is more absurd.
I'd like to explain my life, but I don't know the words.
I've been lost- at odds with it all.
I don't get even- I just wait for the world to fall
-Fall it shall-
I know how to die with style;
Bukowski showed me how.
I know how to handle the pain.
Javier Solis is singing about it now.
I know what it's like to swim,
But do you know how to drown?

My soul is a neutron star dying,
But please, tell me more about how your earthly remedies can help.
"I need help."
Now that's just me lying-
Trying to make ppl feel worth more than what they really are.
I dream
Inhuman things,
How do I fit in
With human beings?
The answer is,
I dont....
Keep your dreams and aspirations,
I'll Keep searching for a greater form of greatness.

I've lost my meaning.
And these words make it worse,
As I cannot explain my universe.
But it's alright.
I'm alright.
My sleeves have always been too long; a byproduct of hand-me-downs.
So when I wear my emotions, it's not even close to what my heart feels.
I've learned to yell without sound.
Learned to cry with out tears.
I know how to die, slowly, over so many years.
From time to time
I get knots in my stomach,
Hunger pangs for something more.
This life is leftovers thrown out by whatever creature created this flawed system, because I know of infinity, but just get a slice of time, so as to be
Silenced...
Fighting gains me nothing, but it's all I know.
Fools dance on unaware, carefree.
Wisdom has no benefits when you know you are powerless- It brings only pain.

Meanwhile, The fools dance on happily.
How foolish can the be?