This world makes me sick.
Everyday I hope and pray for Death to kiss me on the lips.
We stay blind to others pain
We participate in this little game
and those that don't are deemed insane
because those ones break the cycle of society
those ones are the ones who are truly free
and it pains them to see the world playing pretend
living so blindly happy.

Every once and awhile
I escape
I get out of this place
It's only momentarily though
I know I will return
Even if I don't want to
(which I don't)
I'll be back here
Just lying
Lying in bed
Not wanting to move
Cursing the world
In a prison of boredom fueled
sorrow


Nothing to think about
Nothing to take my mind off it
Nothing to fill the hole

She is on my wall.
She is perfect.
I had no idea I could create
something so BEAUTIFUL.
Modeled off a real love
BUT an amalgamation of two,


loves that is.
My own Frankenstein
but more exquisite
and fine


A lovely being
put onto paper
with a nice flower
that is a manifest of my love.

It's pointless
Lying here all day
Childish dreams
A diet of
Whiskey and Coke
Cigarettes and ****
Food just seems so unappealing
Sometimes
Other times
I participate
In a gluttonous ritual
and eat everything at hand.
It
Makes
Me
Sick.
Oh well though,
Life goes on.

Sure, your physical beauty is what caught my eye,
your lipstick a seductive shade of ruby
so beautiful it made me wanna cry.
But I could feel it under your skin,
on a whole different level I loved you.
Not just physically,
but for the person within.
It was something new
and I could only hope that you had the feeling too.

You know,
It's funny I rarely catch your name,
or that we may not even speak a word,
but we are joined together for a split-second,
a locking of eyes
in a world that is more a theater of the absurd.