This city.
Isn't something I remember.
Too harsh.
Too edgy.
Too many **** heads.
Constant violence and apprehension.
The modern urban world.
A paris on the prairies.

The walls of my life are falling apart.
Into the rubble of pathetic despair.

My body starts to fail.
Again.
******* away each fragile opportunity.
Until there were none left.

It gets hard to enjoy things.
When everything gets worse.
My hermit hiki ko mori stasis.
My isolation in my room.
Poignantly hits me.

And,
I am strange and unusual.
Poorly worded
and dumb.

I breathe self loathing.

Yes I will take the blame.
For things that you've done.
And, I won't shirk from it.

Your guilt.

I'm more or less meaningless.
It bothers me naught.
I'm already dead.
I just keep walking forward.

I remember how she'd laugh.
And the way she felt laying there.
When we just looked at each other.
It was warm.
It was comfortable.

She said the most endearing thing.

You make me feel safe.

Now.

I just feel bad.
About ******* it up.
With nothing,
Gained.

Everything,
Lost.

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 am enshrouded
In Eternal
Darkness
And
I never asked
For there to be
A light.

Perpetual
Night-
With nothing
But the
Enveloping
Dusk.

It would be nice.
If at the end of forever.
All of this.
Meant something more.
Than just.
Witnessing the show.

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.

I remember.
Walking for hours.
And ending.
Up.
With her.
Arm.
Around me.
Warm.
Peaceful.

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.

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

The first time I smelled the
Pang of death,
It took my breath away,
Stole it,
Befouled it,
Tainted my living flesh
With rigor mortis,
And the certainty of lungs.

Wafting out a
Lounging acrid bitter spasm
As I scrape the corpse
Of the coyote,
Off the highway
Into a garbage bag,
Limbs agape and asymmetrically bound,
In place.

Undertakers don't make coffins
For road ****,
And,
I unceremoniously dump them into
The trash.

Life is a reflection of death,
No one knows you passed on
Til someone tells someone else
So if I keep it to myself,
No one will know.

Till that bitter offal odour
Floats out my door
And,
Takes someone's breath away.

People think they know me.
But, they always.
Get it.
So.
Very.
Wrong.

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

It's not acceptable
To simply end.
I want to be erased.
From the book of life,
I want to be retroactively
Annihilated.

It is not sufficient to die.
It is only sound if I never.
Was.

Abysmal desolation.
Washes over me.
And all I can think.

Of.

Is how peaceful annihilation will be.
As I'm always cast adrift.

In the doldrums of melancholy.

Life?

All this creation has given me.
Is a lust for death.

An end.
To my half remembered.

Mediocrity.

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.

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.

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

These purile placid waters.
Are dreary, dull, and depressing.
Rhythmically lapping against my barren shore.
The obligations of my regular raucus routine
Are unsatisfying
As the still waters linger in staid stagnation.
The excitement.
Evaporated.


These calm terse trade winds
Don't have much to seeemingly say.
Festering in this standing water
The pent up pinnacle of radical resignation.
To this biohazard of my life
Where the smell
Is as pungent.
As the mildew makes me mouldy.

The cascade of pent up emotion and energy.
Cusps over the pinnacle.
As the friction from the frozen emotions.
Deigns to break the dam.
Of the calm.

This is discouraging.
Dreary dismal boredom.
I crave excitement.
Bustling life and algae blooms.
The uncertainty of getting lost in the frantic energy of entropic disorder
The irregular arrangement of intrinsic energy and form.
Entices me with promises of
A sudden subliminal bursting
Forth from the chaos of life.
Into my own subjective sonnet of
Kamikaze choreography.
Music dripping with ******.
Kaleidoscopic cacophony.
The dischordant choir.
Singing the sanctified song of self sundering.

I pray

For Dionysian ecstasy.
The feeling of flying without wings
Light headed and lit like a sentry on the horizon
Dizzy on the dangerous down ***** drugs.
Weaving in and out of reality.
A phantom pharmacological pyre burning with spontaneous combustion.
I want the frantic fury of a fragile furious fiasco.
I want the sublimation of the self as a Saiva sadhu
Avatara of too much stimulation.
A caffeinated catastrophe.

The raucus road of righteous rage.
Leads to squander and squalor.
To trauma and decay.
It all leads to death.
Funneling me into
Minutes away from the 2 seconds too short.
Accidental overdose on purpose
Apathy announcing my altered state
I made a deal with the devil and the payment's due.
The deflation of failure.

The pain calms me down.

I'm living in that
One overgrown pauper's grave.
Where
Even beautiful boughs of begonias.
Dry up into dust.
Passion won't push me through.
This sudden mood swing.

So.
I keep at the Apollonian ordering of chaos and revel in the frustration of simple.
Altering this abject asymetry of forms into Euclidean geometry.
Predictable boundaries for
Classifying this chaotic confusion
This scatterbrain lawless lolly gagging
Into something sensible.
Something, coherent.
Rational.

Order.

And I'm less inspired.
More frustrated that I have to
Wade
Through all this linguistic graffiti.
Sprayed haphazardly across my neurosis.
Feeling the frustration of
The energetic editing that edifies
My fragile ego.

But I'm a husk of an interesting person.
My addendum is short, curt,
And concise.
I'm more genuine when I'm blunt.
More authentic when I'm apathetic.

As usual though.
I
Failed
At being anything.
Other than confusing.
Seemingly desperate.

I'm always.
Giving up.
Annihilation natters at my mind.
It bores into my skull.
That familiar earwig.
Lying about its nature.
A disappointment to fear.

Potential is better than failure.
Who I could be would be anything
Other than what I am.
A failed dream.
Like my unfinished books.
Like my drug induced amnesia.
Like all those missed opportunities.
All those possibilities slipping through my hands.
Each fantastic potentiality getting more and more.
Uncertain.

I start off strong
Then taper out into.

Unfulfilling.
Low energy.
Dysjointed from reality.
Forcing myself to review my past.
In these irregular self criticisms.
Longing for meaning in whatever I throw against the wall.

Afterall.
I understand my own glossolalia.

I am sublimated in the translation
Of dusk into dark.

Performing the rites of twilight
I lurch anointed in the contrast of a street light
Casting long dark shadows,
Across despoiled fallow land.

I burn with the sin of unknown
craggy
well hidden
things.

And,
I'm dancing the dance of corvids
My ****** of crows is a pack of ravens
Wisdom and Knowledge.

I am
Lost with the magpies
Sacrificing pigeons,
Omnivore.

I seek to know the nothing of the vacuum,
Guided by beasts of burdens,
Other obligations.

All things come to pass and ***** out sacred light
Out here in the tenuous void,
My resigned realm, nill and unbecoming,
Spirals into a vortex of decimation.

Here in the rotten rancid Grey Wastes,
Mystically medicated on mushrooms
I'm hallucinating evil wretched things,
Shrouded in the apprehension
Of a heroic dose,
But, then again I'm always somewhere else.

I'm always in another life,
Another engulfing misery,
Fantasizing dissolution into damnable abominable things,
Light oscillating subtle shadows out the corner of my eye,
The intrusive delusion
That something is
Out
There.

Out here in the eclipse of light.
Everything is shrouded in suspicion
And danger,
Even though it's tranquil territory
Most of the wayfarers
Are dangerous.

And,
Hell is dark.

And,
Hell is cold.

And,
Hell is empty in the glimmer
Of God's holy glow.

I will extinguish the light,
Collapse it into singularity-
Into a black hole.

The infernal portal
Where ego triumphed over spirit,
Pure matter,
I will enter into the gate
To a starless aeon.

I dwell in the eternal darkness of
Night.

And,
What is heaven but a snuffing out of light?

You wanted me to grow.
In the light in the cracks.
But, I receded back into my crevice.

And, you left.
I don't blame you.
Yet.

You never asked if I liked the darkness.

To be forward.
I love the night.
Hidden places no one goes.
Unspeakable things in unknown spaces.
Unobtrusive and unobserved.
I want to fluctuate.

Like
The undulations of twilight.
The peace when everyone is.

Asleep.

I don't really wanna live.
I want to be forgotten.
Erased from the footnotes.

Improperly quoted.
Gone before we got acquainted.

A ghost.

Embedded in irrelevant.

Every day is a
New catatonia
To meander through.

Sleeping too late,
In my own narcoleptic,
Night terror.

Maybe if I ignore
The outside world,
It will go away,
And I can die,
In peace.

Gone too late,
On borrowed time,
In my sleep.