You don't love me but I can't tell
I'm all alone, it feels like hell

I am weary but I cannot cease my toil
I have wasted enough time on frivolous pursuits
Yet they are my only respite from the world placed upon my shoulders
The dark softness of the night sky beckons me away from my work and wakefulness
But I cannot cease!
I cannot rest, no matter the personal cost! For the consequence of my failing shall be a much higher toll!
My future in turmoil
My family flummoxed
The joy of my life leeched away by ghoulish specters I cannot fight off, only bow before
And I want it all to end--yet I wish to live my dreams and fulfill my hopes!
Woe be to the laborer who serves the demands of those they love!
No rest seems unselfish, no indulgence is guiltless, the self is stripped away to become a slave of the labors of love!
O sleepless rest! O restless sleep!
How I long for the simpler days of childhood!
How I long for the sweet sleep of the innocent, to which I can never return!
Woe be to the weary soul!

Hot to the touch
Sweet to the tounge
A bitter burning sensation staining last nights regrets
Forbidding today to take a turn like yesterday
For my heart is healing
Forgiveness
Failure
Fear
Breaking past the mind set of chains
Reclaiming a new testimony
Threatening the temptation with a bond of a higher power

How sad must I make myself?
When petty annoyance turns to
dust, a swirl of caster oil on my
tongue, need I stab in infinite
direction for something to grasp
onto?

When does blood end and choice
begin? How much *** must I smoke
to stop paying attention? Do you want
to be here?

The answer is assuredly No.
I know because I know you.

You will numb yourself until the
little tiny hairs of your forearm
rise and prickle and beckon for
sunlight, escape from dark room
of blanket piles and ***** clothes.

Do you want to be here?
The answer is in the How.
Should I keep projecting or
wear my insecurities on my sleeve
like a good boy, feelings and
resolve and dedication to family?

Where did my poem go?
Does it want to be here?
Should I pull it up from the
ether, all hot ember and critique,
or might I let it flounder and
drown, all not together and
scatterbrain, best left on edit table
in drunken somberness and
existential envy, slow motion.

Do you want to be here?
I am asking for a friend.

It's silly how a few hours past I was drowning in despair, despite the fact that I still can't comprehend why I broke my streak of panic attack free
Silly me can't stand a loud crowd
Silly me let's it get to me
Silly me is lost in some cloud
Silly me freaks when he speaks
For that voice I've heard before
Singing me to sleep
Now I find it a bore
I tend to be pessimistic in the comfort of my home
But today I let it climb a shore
Silly me. I won't let it be.

I am the queen of what ifs
Sitting on a throne of could've beens

My fears are my loyal subjects
Escorting my dreams to the gallows

My ambitions are now prisoners
To my court of procrastination

I, the queen
Reign over all of this regret

As the day fades into night,
Where the stars shine bright
They mingle, they dance like clusters of delight
A quiet evening beckons me
With a glass of red and a nice cool breeze
That gently caresses my face
To ready myself for a good night's embrace

Tell the Queen, there is a King who will always care
Tell the Princess, there is a Prince who with another she will never share.
Tell the Servant Girl, there is Boy who will her burdens bear,
Tell that Damsel, that to see her cry will not be fair,
Tell the Countess, that for her beauty a Count will not seize to stare,
Tell that Woman, that You will love her from year to year,
And that if ever she feels lonely, there will be no need to fear,
For there will always be a Hero, who for her will shade a tear,
And a Knight who will ride through heat and cold for a creature priceless and rare.

As I walk
the words of those that never existed
echo inside of my mind

I have learned
that you don't have to share each other's blood
to be the closest brothers

I can hear
thousands of voices swelling up inside
each begging for just one chance

I can see
every one of those smiling faces
that I've never laid eyes upon

Now I know
I'm friends with those that never existed
those that I have never met

I have fought
hundreds of battles with nary a scratch
but been mortally wounded

For I am
A warrior, a queen, a servant, a child,
a mere bystander

Because I
Have a library inside of my head
of all that I read