I thought that.
Maybe.
I'd connected again.
To something greater that's outside myself who's existence was so poignant that I stopped for one moment to appreciate an honest true feeling or original thought that advanced both our understanding of ourselves through our shared humanity.
But,
You just wanted to **** me.

I would rage against that inferno.
As though I'd carve my name on destiny.
Something, permanent in a see of has beens.


But, I don't.
I just, get ****** up.
Everyone loves an underdog.
Set against infinity.

The dreams I dream.
Dwarf my hyperbole.
In the absurd.

The pine trees sag.
Cushioned in the oh so very warm comfort.
Of the freshly fallen snow.
And, I walk.
Along the banks of a half frozen river.
Idolizing my isolation.
Engulfed in a familiar cold.
That I can bear.
For such a view.

Thank you for the good times.
I had.
My oasis.
My dearly kept memories

These figments of you.
That from time to time.
I think of.

It's never all bad.
Sometimes I can struggle through.
The misery of you're gone.
And feel warm.
Like I was in your arms.
And, when you smiled.

Just.

For.

Me.

There are no troubling.
Thoughts.
In the emptiness.
Of another couple tranquilizers.
Far more than I could have taken.
But, how else do I feel like.
Drowning.
While I'm awake.
Other than being consumed.
By chemical apathy.

I'm sorry.
I say this with.
Honesty.

I
Gave.
Up a.
Long.
Time ago.

I'm just waiting to die.
Unconscious.
In a drug.
Coma

I can only see happiness.
In pictures.
Or videos of people.
Tranquil and content in nature.
While I force myself.
To rot.
In this small.
Room

I am constantly escaping.
From right now.
To get lost.
In.
Never was.

I don't want to.
Breathe.
I just want.
To pass.
Away.
Into the absolution.
At the end.
Of the abyss.

Does it matter.
If you're screaming.
When all that can.
Get you to sleep.
Is the promise.
Tomorrow won't be so.
Bad.

But it.
Always.
Is.

I don't even remember.
Any happiness.
In the last half decade.
Just.
A lot of let downs.
And suicide.
Attempts.

Ain't no one never.
Come to save me.
From ****.

I had to figure it out.
On my own.

And,
It's made me more.
Anti social.
Cause I can live all alone.
By my ain **** self.

You stop crying out.
In pain.
When you realize.
No one cares.
But you.
So instead.
You figure out how to not.
Communicate.
Any discomfort.

What kinda happiness.
Is it.
That never shares with anyone.
And.
I'm more alive in my dreams.
Than being.
Cognizant.

I never wanted to play.
Nice.
With the other kids.
I just.
Wanted to be alone.
Now.
I just wanna.
Recede on back into that nothingness.
I know so well.
My good friend.
Cushioned in silence.
Drifting by myself.

I try to remember.
That in the grand scheme.
Of things.
I have never been more.
Than an utter failure.
Who managed to live longer.
Than he should have.

Ain't no rockbottom.
When.
There's no where to fall to.
Floating.
So far out in.
Space.

And,
I've been a loser.
Since I can remember.
With nowhere to go.

Nothing changes.
Nothing's really the matter.
Just.
Today.
Like yesterday's tomorrow.

Another side note.
In my personal diary.
Of it doesn't matter.
Never did.

I'd like there to be.
One thing.
Only we can forget.
From when we were.
Out there somewhere.
Alone.
And,
Happy.

When she smiles.
I feel good.
And a lot of the time.
I'd like to just hold her.
Hear her laugh.

A personal.
Private.
Moment.

In sleep.
All the pain goes away.
To be replaced.
With fragments.
Of her.
Ghost.

I don't feel like.
Living today.
I just wanna sleep.
Through forever.
Waking up in yesterday.
Where I romanticize.
Former lives.
I never.
Had.

Hope is always scarce.
In the middle of.
These doldrums.
Where the shore seems so far away
With nothing to take you there.

I've just accepted the lack.
Of forward momentum.
And wait.
To die.
Adrift at sea.

I remember people I see in stores.
Because.
They're the first humans I see.
After finally being forced.
Outside.
And, I hate it.
Too much intimacy.

There's supposed to be something.
Profound.
At the end.
Of this suffering.

But all there is.
Is the knowledge.
You.
Were.
Right.

It never really mattered.
Either way.
All there is is emptiness.
And that wretched.
Inner voice.
Just.
Repeating itself.

Giving up was the best.
Thing I could.
Have ever.
Done.
Now I'm.
Free to be nothing.

In my inability.
To stop chain smoking.
I'm alive.
By killing myself.
One breath.
At a.
Time.

I seem to exist.
In the tension between.
Each here and now.
In this moment.
Always.
Anxious.
Waiting.
For something.
To happen.

Janis always wails.
Me to some.
Kinda.
Good memory.
I had.

A place in time.
Where I'm.
Happy.
And everything.
Is ok.

Maybe around a.
Fire.

Being in time.
Feels like.
The ego and its own.
Beyond good and evil.
Something.
Absurd.
Some.
Fear and Trembling.

I can't stop.
Screaming.
Inside.

And.
I want to peel.
Off my skin.

Existence.
Constant frustration.

Abyssal.
Abysmal thoughts.
Drawn taught.

In
My
Mind.

The dirt caked on my hands.
I remember.
Sleeping on rocks.
Eating from the garbage.

And.
No one.
Ever helped.
Or thought.
I.
Needed it.

It's all my fault.
As.
They like.
To say.

But it doesn't.
Matter.
Anymore.

Everything is futile.
Just.
Barren empty fields.

My.
Slow.
Death.