Now adays.
The days.
Just blow away.

And, I'm left in hesitation.
Wondering what went.
Wrong.
Hoping I have enough time.
Left.
To do something more.
Than passing the time.

No one writes me love poems.
Cause there's nothing much to love.
Nothing really here.
Nothing really of note.

I want to scream through.
This excruciating boredom.
Maybe into a purpose.
More complex than.
How do I get through today.

I
Despair.
At what's left.
Of my life.

Another couldn't get up.
Suicidal ideation.
Day.
Where I slept through a nine to five.

Another.
This too will pass into another.
Hopeless situation.
Stewing in my juices.

Lusting for that finale.
As long as I'm unconscious.

It's ok.

Every day I want to die
But I can never find the right way
To elucidate it,
As if I figure out its lexicon
It will go away.

How many words do you need
For death.

How many impossible overdoses
Do you need to survive.

How many dismal dreary days
To slump through,
Do I need to experience.

Isolation.
Emptiness.
Loneliness.

Pointless useless mouth I am.
I despise myself.

Seems like for me suicide is forbidden
Some blessing of life
This is.

There is no redemption arc.

Loneliness is a temporary thing.

Comes and goes with bad dreams
Of people I used to know.

I don't think someone else
Can fulfil me
Or bring me peace.

It would just be nice
If another ******
Would take the time
To tell me about their day.