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

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

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.

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

It will just weigh me down.
In perpetual melancholy.

Irreverent nothingness.

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.

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

We are the last children.
Of ostracized individualism.
The dark creepy kids of the witching hour.
Drab dismal black.
Clad in ghosts.

Left aside.
Losers.
Rejects.

Caste out dalits.
Who could never fit into.
Whatever normal is.
Unless we are confined in your consternation.
The someone's who refuse your society.
A jail of good intentions.
And pride.

Unlike you.
We live in twilight.
Sleep at dawn while waking up right before dusk.
To watch the sun set on our dismal days.
Never to rise in us again in day time.

We are.
Delighting in darkness.
Dancing in shade with the oscillating shadows.
Of what's going bump in the dark.
When all of you are asleep.

Maybe we aren't pretty.
Maybe we are a melancholic menagerie of misfits and malcontents.

But how dare you call us vain.
We don't want your attention.
When like insects we scurry away from the illumination of your light.

We'd prefer to be left alone.
Ignominiously ignored infamous itinerant.
Mendicants of Midnight.
To own our own lives.
Ran on our own circadian rhythm.

But you.
Have dragged us into the sun.
Demanded we obey.
Conform to your cancerous cacophony of fragile ideas, tiny egos, and your desire to destroy.

So why then.

Are you shocked that we hurt ourselves.
Hurt you with our existence.
And lash out in desperation for the dying of the light.

Life was better when you left us alone.
And I will certainly shut out the rising sun.
With a cascade of blasphemy.
Pouring out of the sword of my mouth.

I never told you I could
Sing.

I showed you.

And,
You still didn't
Believe me.

So I chose
To serenade
The silence.

With my discordant
Choir.

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.

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

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.

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.

No one I know will even.
Find out when I.
Die.

They're just personas.
Avatars and text on.
Screens.

A figment of my imagination.
Projected out there on that impossible.
Perch.

That I can't land on.
Where telegrams can only reach.

No one will give them my obituary.
I'll just recede.
Into nothing.

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.

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

It's that chemical taste.
That reminds you.
In a half hour.
You'll be much.
Much.
Much.
Higher, and no feelings will be.
Left.

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.

I hear that low dull buzzing din.
Of my internal monologue.
Running around.

And I want out.

But, I'm sickeningly.

Meanderingly.

Bothersomely.

Alive.

In these absentminded anxious anomalies.
Of thought.
I recede into self doubt.
Rampant overtly critical self destruction.
I am the hypnosis and torpor.
Of far too many drugs.
Far too early.

******* development.
Restricted ego.
And, the niggling doubt.
That I'm good at something.

These nervous neurotic moments are conscious.
An urge of self anihilation
Taboo words.
Forbidden ideas.
Mix with my suicidal ideations.
I am beyond the horizon of self doubt.
I fell into abnegation.

I think
I need some apathetic anti depressants.
To comfort me.
Get me through today.
So in tomorrow.
I can hope that a couple months from now.
Everything won't be so bad.

But that never happens.

Most people die.
Old.
Slipping on wet showers.
Others.
Choke on candy.
Life is mostly.
Stupid.

I woke up.
One day.
And you were.
Gone.
And we never.
Said hello.
Again.

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's one more paranoid delusion
To throw on the pyre
Of my imagined self.

I thought I'd notice
My hallucinations.
But, they're just banal
Misunderstandings my eyes make.
Mistranslated apophenia
Glossolalia,
Babeling nothing out my mouth.

And, I hide in the dark,
In a crevice in reality
Alone.
Buffered from the pertubations.
Of the chaos.
Away from other people.

Away from stiumulus.
Flickering unconnected neon signs,
Hearing speech in the percolating nothing of the din,
Flashbacks and other intrusive.
Thoughts.

Like, is this real?
Was that a memory?
Or a dream I had one day
Awake.

I wish my mental health
Wasn't so discombobulatedly asymmetrical
Or poorly written.

Thinking I'm so deep,
Profound, well put
Together.

If only I had the chance
Or motivation
To fail.

Some day all of this
Will make sense.

Or I'll get lost in losing my ability
To keep a thought longer
Than a calling card.

But who am I to hand out
References.
To something beyond what I am.

One day.
I'll take a bitter pill.
And never see you.

Tomorrow.

I will abide
forever.

In eternal.
Emptiness.

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