my eyes open, sullenly.
not a movement from
my body,
but that of my left arm,
reaching out for
that awful device
that forces me
to comprehend
a drab reality.

tap to snooze

waking up from a dream
where every day isn’t
the same monotony,
and every class isn’t
the same anesthesia,
and every moment
isn’t enveloped
in the pain
of missing you.

tap to snooze

i lay here hoping
begging, even,
that this burden
of waking life will cease,
and that one day
i will cross over
to the sleep realm
and never again
will i need to
*tap to snooze

desperate to diverge
from this desolate domain.
dazing,
dreaming of my damsel
in dainty dress.
dozing,
dreading the days
of imminent duress.
tomorrow we depart.
tomorrow I deteriorate.
the drugs,
the drinks;
debauchery turns to
doubting & deriding these desires.
death;
the only deliverance
from my displeasure.

a lonely heart
in a crowded room
and it feels like I'm falling
falling, falling, falling
scars and scabs outline my knuckles;
battle wounds from all the holes
I've been punching,
in the walls of my mind.

I still pretend you're here with me.
but that's like
pretending god isn't laughing at us
or that "what doesn't **** us
makes us stronger" and
it's evident I'm weak.

the flowers are all dead now
without you.
your voice was the sun,
and your smile the rain,
that kept the garden in my heart alive.
now thistle and weeds
are all that remain.

I'm still falling
falling, falling, falling
with no end in sight,
but lately I can't decide
if hitting rock bottom would **** me,
or if I'm already dead.

"the battle is over!
the war has been won!"
claimed the soldiers
while tallying scores.

although blood
had been shed,
soldiers severing heads
rejoiced all across the moor.

"someone call the king!
we must tell the king!
we now own this here land,
how divine!"

but the king had been found
being renegade 'round
his opponents,
while out guzzling wine.

"I killed my dear brother;
beheaded my mother
to service you and
this ****** rotten realm!"

so I'll see to it, you!
if it's the last thing I do,
that you're found
drinking wine in hell!"

partying got old in a hurry.
it aged like milk that was bought
a few days before expiration.
and I'm lactose intolerant anyway,
why the **** am I drinking this?

I'm looking for something more mature,
that becomes ripe
with the passage of time,
like 50 year old scotch.
and I'm an alcoholic anyway,
why isn't there a bottle in my hand?

overwhelmed with the thought of you
drinking anything
with anyone else
while I sit here alone
and sip another cup of coffee,
with only the wind to keep me company.
and even he doesn't stay for long.

poetry comes easiest
alone in cold and dark,
with a bottle in one's hand
and a dungeon in one's heart.

trapped inside the thought of you,
I cannot find the key.
a hopeless ragged prison
is all that I can be.

home always sounded pleasant;
I found comfort in your voice
and was swept into your gentle grasp.
I had no other choice.

a constant war inside my mind
to love or be afraid.
I asked my heart what I should do.
he said,
" a decision has been made"

let me explore with great length
the cliffs overhanging peril in my mind;
bluffs that overlook a sea
of fear and self-consciousness.
let me not stay here in wretched form,
complying with rules made by them.
them the people who mock my self-worth;
them the people who wallow in my loathing.

let me conquer this world unknown
and explore the cracks & crevices of my mind.
even I know not what lays there, in darkness;
even I know not what I am or why,
or how, or even for how long.

I yearn for knowledge or maybe the absence of.
I fear the vices that consume me each night.
need I these vices always?
need I these vices every night forever?
I am afraid to know the answer.

despair is nothing in the face of truth.
help me get there;
help me be not afraid in the face of peril.
i will walk to the edge of that cliff and fall,
but what happens next, I do not know.

yeah it's 3:59 in the morning,
so what? there's ink in my veins and
a bottle of ***** in my system.
I'm bleeding novels here
and it's a rare blood type I've got.

The words pour from severed wounds
and stain the carpet, bed sheets,
the counter tops and floor tiles.
shrieks from my roommate,
"what the hell's going on?!
someone call an ambulance!"

(darkness)

yeah it's 7:03 in the morning,
so what? I woke up attached to a machine
and it wasn't even the government.
chuckles from the nurses,
"he's got a sense of humor this one"

every last letter fled my body
until I collapsed.
and suddenly, I understood
that death isn't about flowers, tombstones,
black dresses or sullen faces.
it's about the words that were left unsaid.

there's a thunder buried
somewhere deep in my heart
that only the lightning of your lips
can unleash.
there's a storm in my veins
and
I love you
like it's hurricane season.

darling,

let me be your ocean shore.
bring me your waves
and wash them up against me
like it's high tide.
let's entangle in one another
until no one can tell
where my sands end
and
where your waters begin.

you see,

people always say
"don't go towards the light" when
someone 's dying, but
you've been my light for ages
and following you
was the best choice I ever made.
I am reborn in the comfort
of your arms
and
if continued happiness with you
means going towards the light,
I would die every time.