Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Nolan Bucsis Mar 23
There was never any way out.
And forever seemed like another thousand steps.
Forward.

Then.
When the impossible happened.
When I found a home.
Nothing got better.
Even though it did.

The same old fried brain.
The same constant depression.
Only.
I'm fat.
I'm boring.
I'm weak.

Only.
Life on the streets might.
Have been better.
For me.
Nolan Bucsis Feb 23
I don't feel anything anymore.
Except.
Depression.
Except melancholic self reflection.

I used to care about something.
Now I just can't find the words.

And, I'm living in torpor.
Sleeping while awake.
A somnolent consciousness.

Existing.
Not living.
Nolan Bucsis Jan 11
It seems.
Nothing was.
Really.
Worth it.
All along.

I'm still alone.
Still escaping from reality.
Still ******.
Still sad.

Nothing really got better.

Just isolated.

Just jaded.

Just fatalistic.

All those hopes.
All those dreams.
Every could have been.
Nothing.
But.
Fantasy
Nolan Bucsis Dec 2019
The street is so much simpler.
Than normal life.
And I'd like to be back there.
Adrift in boredom.
Divine in my lack of a life.
And oh it makes much more sense.
To just.
Live for right now.
Eating my way out of the trash.
And.
My romantic nostalgia.
Eating at me.
In these banal suicidal days.

I should embrace.
This falling apart.
Crumble into death.
And.
Blissful.
Abnegation.
Nolan Bucsis Dec 2019
I can feel the bullet powering through my skull.
And.
The infinite release of negation.

There I am.
In my mind.
With this familiar refrain.
To alleviate the frustration.
To correct the mistake.
That is me.

All life is.
Is suffering without end.
Failed dreams.
Slowly decaying into infirmity.

Wouldn't it be so nice.
For that millisecond of transition into something black.
Forever.
Something empty.
Forever.

It's not like it matters.
It's not like I matter.
No one does.

So I fantasize a cold steel grey barrel pressed firmly against my temple.
And.
One.
Millisecond.

Then.
Red.

Against the wall.
Nolan Bucsis Dec 2019
To say I'm a let down.
Is more credit.
Than I'm due.

And, today melts into tomorrow.
You have to find some.
Solace.
In this isolation.
This torpor.

The basics.
Baffle.
Me.

I don't think about a future.
Anymore.
Just.
Freezing to death.

In the street.
Nolan Bucsis Dec 2019
Everything I own is broken.
And irreparable.

I smell of.
Mouldy.
Ash trays.

Failure and lowly things.
Filth.
Decay.

Let's forget we were ever.
Alive.

And.
Ignore.

Everything.
Next page