What if one day
  I get so numb that
    I try to slowly cross a busy road?

Would you watch me slowly walk towards
the cars?
Would you watch as I continue to walk,
  ignoring the horns and people yelling?
   Would you watch as my body flies
    before hitting the ground?
     Would you watch as my blood stains
      the now red road?
       Would you watch as people scream
        in horror?
         Would you watch as my soul
          leaves my body?
           Would you watch as the
            ambulance rushes over to
             save me?
              Would you watch as
               sadness and horror
                takes over your
                 body?

Or would you have
tried to save me?

Emasculate our brains and
Release these reins
Planted- firm on our stems.

I’ll change the carved course
That makes me just like them
With shaky, unstable hands
Unable to fix this fallen hem.
To hold closed my seams, all nice and neat.
Cover myself, beneath these twisted sheets.
Darkness a lover, that always ***** me deep
And leaves me in the corner, as I gently weep
Softly steals the air I breathe. Consuming,
Surrounding, delicately shrouding me.

Blind my eyes and deafen ears to screams,
And I’ll always ask you an appealing “please?”
To calm the howling winds, that sneak against my window
And make Death weep inside my head, like a freshly scarred widow.

-SLuR

That summer glow is on the horizon
and in the humid night air
I'm here trying
to learn to speak, not to spit
verses
but to utter truths. Trying to
find my voice without losing myself.
So here's what went down between me and
myself as we looked upon the town.

I spoke into the glimmer of its lights
and told it my deepest fears
and most tenuous hopes
and I let my feelings
flow forth as my voice
made quiet my mind.
I uttered a few words as
if they might make a man
realise who I am, and I had a moment
or two before I asked myself what'd become of my time.
I saw myself sitting in a room, all day
for many months, years,
A lifetime,

And thought to myself what a waste
and wished my voice was clear, confident, lucid
and longed for the authenticity and courage I'd stifled
and wanted my mind to be together, smooth, whole
and begged for the strength to make it through the months
and remembered those aimless summers past, lethargy
and apathy with a sentiment that almost bordered on fondness
and wondered at that trick: how wrong it is
to be wistful when memory is so selective.
Better to look to the future
with sincere notions of adventure
and convictions on how to regain one's
soul;

What things I've written
over the years, I wonder
what will they remember,
What image will be left for
those I leave behind? A few
weeks ago I had an intense
realisation. What would I do
if I were terminal?
I'm still wasting time trying to
come to terms with my question
and to find some strength from it.
I remembered to breathe today
(so often I forget). I had a couple tokes
and got a little ****** but I don't miss it
as much as I thought (though I miss the times
and the humility of tripping). I avoid work like
an expert, lapping up the sun while it shines and
buying synthesizers; I did just finish
8 months of therapy.

Another realisation, or rather
the application of knowledge
I already possessed, a cause is
merely something we construct.
Supposing how and deriving why
are a useful set of fictions to abide by
yet they cease to serve when I assume
it's my fault and I should be able to make
a change or difference.
I persecute and victimise, recuse myself from
my own life, wondering whatever could rescue
the person I was
as a child.

i know there's still bits and pieces of you that aren't quite undead yet
felt almost impressive to mean something
or somebody who can alter your possessiveness, left
the wedding ring and pretending to be old on your dresser
lay out and fade away star-born reflected off morning waves
the highs and lows, most have been so low and you standing high
getting into my phone and claiming to protect me from other people
bringing your guns out for the summer sun again, sabatoging
all my connections to the outside world, i still wonder why
you bother teasing me and thinking this is more than a charade
but there's still got to be something inside you that still cares