*******
aint
****

but
hoes
and
tricks

Im consider futile for voicing my opinion
I can't comprehend the mediocrity society conforms to
personally I don't want to live behind a desk my entire life searching for a happiness I subconsciously know I will never find at a job I hate along with a life I hate

But unfortunately I guess I'm just considered weird for craving a life beyond the measures of currency and income.

Maybe im just weird for not wanting to contribute toward this stagnant image of how to live our lives.

creativity is abruptly drained out of our mind my the education system who sees us as nothing more than a mere statistic

I refuse to conform and one day while you are sitting at the job you can't bare any longer

you will think of this
With regret
deeper than your hidden depression

and think "he was right"

let it not be confused
let no one else's name
ring throughout these sentences
let this be a hatchet
let me put this to rest
this is not a test
i don't want to think
about shipwrecks anymore
i am tired of folding apologies
into origami birds
and placing them
at the headstones to your tantrums
this is not is not geology class
these are promises
written on razorblades
      & if you are getting choked up
        then maybe you should be
maybe we should be buried
with our telescopes face down
my mouth is full of sorry
all for being honest
we are falling out of orbit
we are burning bystanders
so cast away your callous condolences
because no one is clapping
in this waist deep water
this is not a baptism
so do not tell strangers
that this was a chance to drown
any differently
i am not a catalogue
of constellations you cannot name
this is not mythology
so stop believing your horoscope
i am not a wishing well
i am just a wall for you
to paint post nuclear fallout & antonyms for catharsis on
we destroy the things
that are not ours-
the wanton ways
we embody wrecking *****
and then cry over the rubble
this is not a heap or a mosaic
this is leaping
off a thousand story building
with no one to catch you
at the bottom & maybe
that's why some quiet moments
are so fragile, maybe that's why butterflies have mimicry
your words are black powder
and poetry is your musketry
i guess that makes me your blindfold

All alone in this state of desperation
am I the only one, willing to fight
As if im waiting at this old station
waiting to be spiritually elevated into flight


too bright to be trapped inside this mediocrity
waiting to escape the grasp of this city


I can feel the potential within me
my teachers claim that it is and has been
Dead

My parents ask only for me to conform
I deep down know that I will never
Instead I ask for a complex reform
No
I beg for change

We are being blinded every day
I feel my eyes slowly closing
I feel my nails digging into my eyelids
Begging for them to open

I then wake up
and do exactly what the system has taught me to do

With remains of the abundance of scars
on my eyelids

and no change

I wish I had the ability
To write a poem
To go to sleep
To interact with people

But all I can find myself able to do
Is make myself a cup of coffee
Stare out the window into the emptiness
And let my imagination flow
With thoughts of you
Thoughts of us
What we could be

I'm bleeding out
Almost empty



You spite me
You tried to **** me



Sorry, I should have told you
I'm immortal



I bathe in blood
Drink the souls of those who fail



I created evil
Gave birth to fear



Yet, you think it's simple
To end me here?



Hear that ringing in your head?
That's a sign



Soon enough, I'll have your life
It's mine!



I can't wait until the moment
I steal your breath



It's such a rush
My own ecstasy



Oh, don't even scream
No one cares



Not a single person will hear it
They just don't value life anymore



Haha! Isn't is funny?
It's all because of me!



Now, cry. Beg me!
I want to hear your suffering



It's nothing to be ashamed of
You were misinformed



You didn't know who I was
Now you see



Shh It's all over now
Don't worry dear


After you die
It won't sting

Start thinking about
Where you go when you die
Does your soul rest where your coffin is
or is death just a metamorphasis