Life.
Time is all it is,
where us humans create
unnecessary events to fill our empty schedules.
To fathom a purpose out of electric currents running through our brains for us to do something for that one moment...
a singal time span; starting, and then ending as quickly as the thought came.
It's funny.
It's funny that we have to set goals,
so that we don't go crazy.
We need something to do.
Everyday,
And every second of the day,
we have to do something.
And while time is in play,
as it always is,
when will it stop?
As soon as I die?
No, but then if not then,
then when?
Because just like my life will end,
so will life in gerneral;
come to an end.
Everything has a time span of when
it will come to a stop.
It's only a matter of time.
And a question of:
when?

Why do I care so much?
Can I not say what's on my mind,
when it needs to be said?
It's frustrating.
But you wouldn't know,
since all I ever talk about
is the fake ******* I know you wanna hear.
Because who would ever want
to know what's on my mind?
No one.
Anyway,
don't you remember?
You said "it's **** well obvious.."--
it's **** well obvious
that I'm done.

And while I sit here
near the fire
I wonder how the electric
movements of the flames
would feel on my
skin.
Captivating as it dances,
just drawing me in closer.
I guess it's good that I'm not alone right now.
But it's beautiful.
Not the flames,
but the thought of pain.

This emptiness
fills my being like blood,
running through my veins.

This loneliness
holds me
like no one ever could.

This poison
infects my brain
like a deadly virus
slowing killing me
without anyone knowing.

I feel trapped
and I'm scared of what might happen,
I'm scared of what I might do,
but most of all--
I'm scared of my thoughts.

Because I'm a hostage of my own mind
and the worst part is;
no one can hear me scream.

They never actually see me at my worst
and definitely not at my best.

Some people say
they don't like thunderstorms.
But I, for one,
love them.
Because when my thoughts
are persuading me
to do things
that will not only hurt me
but those around me--
the penetrating sounds of thunder
comfort me
when nobody else would.

I start
with one or two
just for the rush.
Pop another three
for the hell of it.
Sneak four more
to cloud my mind
as an excuse for
what
         I've
                done.
But justice as they say;
is swift.
And just like that
I'm gone.
My life taken
by the sweet,
powdered taste
of half inched sized pills
only conducted
because of the justice
my thoughts said the world
needed.