I've never felt more than half an hour: Insomnia trickles down until the black-tar-ridden-sap oozes onto My partially open eyes. And, to say I've never been in love. Emotions rise up and retreat- A constant heaving of the battered Chest- saving us from finding out How frightening life is.
Murmuring our sordid laments to Lady Death, Beneath the murky glow of hotel room bed sheets And fluorescent dollar store night lights, Too vacant to summon anything more than a whimper From our submissive minds.
Nothing ends, here. One upon another, words flow effortlessly Out of our cavernous mouths, Clogging our chests with empty syllables until We forget why we ever tried to do something more Than care.
Depression can be felt anywhere- The air slowly seeps from the hissing Caracas of a worn out tire, Or the lungs of anyone Still enough to remember. Mindlessly chanting Hail Mary's, We taunt time with our penchant for immortality And hospital lobby greeting cards, Until Aphrodite descends to sell her soul To the highest bidder.
Mother, I have killed the world With a time bomb that will never detonate: Ceaselessly ticking on and on- A reliant backdrop for something Too harsh to exist in silence.
Our hearts have fallen from our sleeves And into films, romance novels, And 3am cooking infomercials. Land of the living: The walking dead, The too-afraid-to-tell-you-how-I-really-feel, The product of a broken people Who traded silence For a language full of mixed intention.
Children of the night, Blindly parade around before noon, Trying to buy redemption At a corner store market For half the price Of the pulpit.
Afraid of hearing the latent echo of Our own pulsing hearts, We fill our lives with white noise And intimacy, too stagnant To exist without our 3am spirituals. Anxiously arranging our feeble lives Around minutes and hours- Slaves to false agendas, We battle the dark, secretly, until soon We lose sight of the purpose And get caught up in the motion Of a world too drugged out on Redemption That we forget our own names.