The lies
like dirt under
fingernails.
Call on your inner
Lady Macbeth
but no amount of scrubbing
can cleanse them.
They lie thick
on the tongue
tainting tastes
with blistered buds.
A thousand ants
marching on your
skin.
Unscratchable itch.
Descending into
madness.
Only truth can
set you free.
Only you can
free the truth.

Where I belong, or destined to be
Is not exactly clear like
Crystalline doubt with fear in tow.
No,
Not on the ridge where I stand partly
In sky atop a roof not there
In its geometrical theory.
With the straight line
Like hammer to wood
Curved yet target laid,
Walking sticks on top of sticks
I nail my presence to homes
Yet homely to be made.
Not on the porch where lemonaid
Will be poured and yet to be's
Will extend on in time as an
Echo lingers of what no one sees.

I build a home
And leave a peice of me unknown.

I've tried to hold on
I've tried to stay strong
I've tried to be the best i could be

But no one cared
No one wondered
No one tried to help me

I've searched for the light
But all i found was darkness
I'm broken and scattered
My hollow heart is heartless

With this said i can't take this
I've found the only way to end it
I'm holding this knife with my left hand
Ending it tonight with my right wrist

I'm sorry I wasn't better
But it's not like my life really matter

is there growth in decay?
all I've learned from pain
is how heavy it feels
to be so empty

711

Strong Draughts of Their Refreshing Minds
To drink—enables Mine
Through Desert or the Wilderness
As bore it Sealed Wine—

To go elastic—Or as One
The Camel’s trait—attained—
How powerful the Stimulus
Of an Hermetic Mind—

somehow victory is a grape wine

which I always strive to get it ...

how much I try my destination is changing

It's location from one place to other

finally making me a seeker instead of a

Winner