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 desire.
Nothing.
More.
Than a catastrophic.
Chaos.
To die in.
Ecstasy.
Over stimulation.

Who are you that.
Thinks I"m so great.
I'm nothing.
Other than your grandiose over thought.
Imagination.
Barely able to feed myself.
Let alone be your.
Muse.

Hope has.
Just turned.
Into the same routine.
To try to get through.
Being alive.

Now I long for.
Quick days.
Eternity reduced.
To a milisecond panic.

No more.
Bad dreams.
No more self loathing.
The emptiness.
Of I didn't know.

Selfishness seems to be something succinct.
That I use to get through to you few.
As though I can show you what I know.
About peace.
Keeping pace.
With what I want when it's really just.
To keep me sane.

I ain't your bro.
I'm an amiltryptamine.
Away from an.
Overdose.

Starting over is another chore.
Another necessity.
One more thing remained unaccomplished.
One more arbitrary rule.

Maybe I should just sleep.
Sleep and recede into the somnolence.
Fade off into nothing.
Of note.

And never was.
Something.
Just.
Loss

I feel better alone.
Unnoticed.

It's always away.
From an uncomfortable.
I'm here.

All I have left of my former life.
Is empty notebooks.
A photograph or two.
And her memory.
Written all over it.

No one writes me love songs.

And, if they did.
I'd simply just burn them.

Like so many thrown away possibilities.
I don't want.

Like so many people.
So many temporary obsessions.

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

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.

I'm trying to freeze myself.
In thought.
And become immortally relaxed.
In an understanding.
Why.
Is there any of this.
And me.
Just.
Broken

She said she didn't.
Know.
Why I stared at her.
Or what that.
Meant.

Lies.
I told her.

She just wants.
More attention.

I didn't answer.
When she asked me.
To stay.

I just left.
To be.
Alone.

Love me.
Or something.
I don't really care.
And I never really did.
I just faked it cause.
I was told to.
I felt responsible.
For existing.

And, now.
I'd rather run away.
Motion keeps me moving.

It feels like I'll never get out.
From under this rock.

It will just weigh me down.
In perpetual melancholy.

Irreverent nothingness.

Was it love that brought me here.
With you.
Or was it just the idea I had.
That this.
Would be different.

There's nowhere I can go.
When the next cataclysmic catastrophe destroys my life.
There is no safe place of sentiment and empathy.
Nothing and no one there to tell me it's ok.

No food.

No kind words.

No favours or luck.

Just.
Struggle.

Just.
Motion forward to somewhere else.
Problem solving myself from here to there.
As it comes.

The future so distant.
All I can imagine.
Is these tired blistered feet.
Walking down some burning asphalt.

My soundtrack the crickets and wild things.
That live beyond the ditch.
Etched in my mind.
Perpetually leaving.

Every time I experience or create something beautiful.
It's lost on me.
Like all those long hours of conversations.
With the minds of a missed lover.
I just walk away.
I disappeared.
As though nothing happened.
Blaming myself.
For my lack of perfection.

I'm symetrically out of place.
Every where I go.
Covered in the filth of a thousand chain smoked.
Cigarettes.
And, the offal.
Smelling foul.
Mould.
****.
Betraying the lie of potential.
In my face.

We sang drunken requiems.
To the loss.
Of our future.
In those old cities.
When we were young.
And.
Idealistic.

I want to be forgotten.
By everyone.
And just appear.
On the shores of reality.
A different person.

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.

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

Where are you?
Anywhere.
But here?
I see you.
And I know.
We all pass into oblivion.

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.