I cascade into riddles
while playing the broken fiddle
Strings bent by my flailing bow,
screeching cat meows
wailing into the still night

But for a second I am forgotten,
closed eyes memories faded but no one is talking,
I reconcile my internal differences
on ketamine and ****,
while sifting through the coke on the mirror.

Hampering visions of self-mistrust,
this place seems all too familiar.
I am guilted into a frenzy of denial and hate,
flaccid feelings designed to rule my mind,
stepping over casualties left in my wake.

The second hand of time
disrupts my calculated and distraught brain,
begging for forgiveness, I am in denial.
Restitution beckons my calling,
trapped in a killing jar all by myself

Where do I turn but to the inside,
feelings drift apart while my heartbeat fades.
Internally drained, stained, and maimed.
It's the useless sense of nothing
that surrounds me

Each night before I lay down,
I swallow four little pills,
two white ones, one yellow one
and one blue one

About fifteen minutes later,
my mind starts to mumble,
Then I stumble into defeat.
Eyes heavy and vision cloudy

My brain is seeking answers,
my fingers start to feel tingly.
The room slowly closes
in on me.

My emotions cease to exist,
tapping slowly on the wall.
I implode with fear
and still I seek no answers

Four little pills
plays dodgeball inside my brain
FOUR LITTLE ******* PILLS
I   I   I   I
I don't know who I am anymore

Cascading down the tunnels,
through damped corridors I go,
It doesn't stop.
Burnt flesh and tempation gone
I left my mind
on a ceramic plate
Then it shatters

Four little pills
disappeared inside of me
No reflection in the mirror to see
I am no longer in your presence
Its time to go

Society's forgotten are covered
in a diluge of lost time
and blue,
with shadows that lurk on broad shoulders
so true.

Their fractured thoughts drift
through the silent city alleyways,
only to be swallowed whole
then they vanish without a whisper

Our eyes turn away
and our minds are turned off
when their haunting voices
ring in the distance,
Shhh listen to the soft echoes slowly fade

With no end in sight,
we seek vengence and violence.
Slammed down with tired thoughts,
laying naked on the black.top,
not a single gaze

Lightning strikes the innocent down,
fracturing the mantle of time,
Struck by the sound
it echos lies and lives
But we leave them to die alone

Someone else will pick up the pieces,
Swept up in the tragedy of life,
It is the fractured souls
that we throw away and
We don't remember them anymore

Certified by organic feelings draining
lost syllables down tall rusted waterspouts.
People deleted and others segregated.
I digress.

Withering away in a broken state of denial,
a country searching for it's own lost soul.
Instigation, legislation, and endless constipation.
I digress.

Punching stares into a careless book,
words searching for a meaningful ending.
Woke, broke, down and out for the count.
I digress.

Turning the corner in the face of chaos,
whispers of silence and red flags waving.
Blindfolded badges hide when the sun finally sets.
I digress.

Who are we, anymore? Quote the raven, nevermore,
Questioned solutions to countered conclusions.
Wandering aimlessly in a circle of confusion, nevermore.
I digress.

It takes just one bullet
to take one name.
One innocent person that is taken away
without any guilt or any solemn shame.

Look, we are tired of seeing it.
Reliving it everyday on the TV news
or on our
social media page.
It's like the bully in the classroom that
doesnt stop being a bully.
It's like a bad dream that doesn't go away.
A requiem nightmare that we cannot wake up from.
Then we pray?

It takes just one bullet
to take one name.
One innocent dream shattered
by these vile little games.

When are we are going to say
Enough is Enough.
We are sick and tired of being sick and tired
of being sick and tired
Only to see it happen
another solemn day
and then we see another family attending
another funeral.
Then we pray?

It takes just one bullet
to take one name.
One life, one liberty, one personality
gone up in tempered flames.

Why do we have to sit through
this torture rack of pain,
Only to have the system let us down
again and again and again.
These visions are stuck on repeat.
Playing the same old song and dance,
skips on the record player.
And then we pray?

It only takes one bullet
to take one name.
Silenced at that moment in time,
captured in hearts and minds
and then we pray

I sit here in delusions
surrounded by burnt fuses,
and mindless conclusions.
I am taken back and wondering
through this trauma world.

I can't see through
my black and blue eyes,
I can only feel the blood
and the tears dripping down
my weathered face

Wrapping up the physical
and emotional wounds
that embrace my soul,
they do not heal,
They only keep me safe.

I live inside this trauma world
all by myself, alone.

Limping through these
struggles of life,
I tripped over those moments
I am trying to forget.
I relive those events
over and over again.
So make them go away.

I will continue to sit here
with these delusions,
mindless in my own trauma world
I start to disengage.
But when do I pull the fuse?

I am not who I am on the inside.
Thunder clouds and rain storms
contain me on the outside,
my raging vagus nerve is about to twitch
Do you see me anymore?

I'm sitting in a place
where my anxiety and depression
become balled up in a knot
and my own self-gratification dominates
the world around me.

I am right in front of you,
Can you help me?
My darkened shadow cast nightmares behind me
as if
as if nothing else matters at all.

Where am I to go?
Blinded in this sea of madness,
Sealed deep within
my unconscious mind.
I float helplessly
in an ocean of tragic dreams

I am not who I am on the inside,
sifting through these
empty tired days,
I have grown tired,
mentally strained,
physically drained
because I am the one to blame.

You left but I was not ready.
I try to be there but I was not steady.
I failed you.

The words I saw the other day on the bathroom stall read
"Glorified Prison"

MMMM, Cognitively thinking
to myself.
"This is my life"

In an instant flashback of
bent memories,
I thought about
the year
when
it all happened.
My heart started beating rapidly,
my brain collapsing,
My body drenched in sweat.
I was drowning.
Drowning inside a mental pool
and there was no life ring to save me.

I just stood there,
Mummified to the moment.
My eyes were glazed over as if I had glaucoma trying to stare
through a thick London fog.
Everything was disappearing
in front of me.
I saw it though, in my distant memory,
quickly flashing in front of me, like a shooting star across the sky,
then it was gone.

Gone to a place that I never recognized before.
A place that was out of some sort of bad dream.
That place. That brick house. Pitch black outside.
That kind of bad dream, "the worst kind of nightmare
that you can ever imagine"
and I couldn't wake up from it.
Make it go away!!
Please, Make it go Away!!
I am begging you.
STOP IT!!

His hands suffocating me,
but I could barely feel them
or hardly breathe, none the less.
Breathless in this moment.
I became to numb to my surroundings.
Trapped in my own seclusion
and by my own misdirection.
I was left wondering.

I had no idea what was going on.
Lost inside myself,
with unknown fear,
trapped inside that brick house
of malicious trepidation
and insidious manipulation.
I was being sexually violated
and I didn't know why
nor could I control it.

I was in a poisoned induced
coma of fear.
My mind was twisted
beyond reproach
as he continued his sadistic
and cruel usage of my body.
I was longer a human being,
I was just object for his enjoyment.

Escaping the insanity, I ran!!
Finally free or so I thought.
This mental torture has burdened
me for so long and has taken me down many diluted paths
of mistrust, misguidance
and internal, penalized
grief.
I am became lost unto myself.

I have grown to live inside
this Glorified Prison,
with no release date in site.
The torture that I was subjected to,
will never leave me.
So this prison has become solace.
It has also become my hell.
It is where I put on my shoes
and walk without fear but
it is also where I run away
from things.

Many times I begin to tremble when I think of
that nightmare.
It has become a seeded part of me.
It is who I am.
I am a survivor though.
One day I hope to be released
beyond the walls of this
glorified prison,
so I can finally be free.

Why do you have to take my only need?
Do I have to bleed down the river
for you to not see?
My corridors are filled with pain covered walls
and shock induced traumas.
Drowned emotions in cast iron tubs,
rust through my life
at the bottom of the ocean
I know not but temptation and contemplation,
it only bounces around inside
like a drug store explosion.

We start to walk down the
mirrored lined hallways the wrong way
I mean our eyes glare off
each other the wrong way.
I mean, "what in the **** am I trying to say?
You just don't get it, do you?
I mean, it goes right through you,
I think I may have a rusty
***** loose or maybe you do.

Your agony runs through my veins,
conversing memories, explaining nurseries and
even a midnight summer's *******.
So let me explain this to you,
in layman's terms,
the ****** broke a long
time ago..
but you seemed to have missed
your period and the point.
I know I am not only one,
I know about all the others.
I mean.
You bounced around those guy's  mattresses
like you are on some gymnastic's trampoline.
Then come home late at night
like a ninja, like I wouldn't even see.

I am not a blind man walking around with a stick,
the true sinister gaze you gave me
is like sinister maze inside my brain.
But I solved this 300 piece puzzle
that you left on the nook
and I didn't even have to open the book.
I think it is time
to close this unbridged chapter in my life
with no unadulterated bookmarks
and bounce around to the end
where I know the words
which will make me a whole lot happier
and much more content

Fear the wind goodbye
Shoelace strings and rubber bands
Streetlights flicker dark

Can we talk?

She said "Sure, give me a minute"

Wait a few seconds, that minute turned to ten,
Now one hour later,
She was ready to begin?

"What do you want to talk about?"
she yelled from
across the room.

Silence, I was sleeping.
But just then, she was about to hear the boom

So.......
She came at me like a wartime poet,
dropping bombs on my head like
I didn't even know it,
Ripped holes in my shirt
and I couldn't even sew it.
She busted rhymes in my mind
even CeLo couldn't own it.
Words flying so fast,
I coulda swore they were stolen.
She moved one step closer
and boom, I was falling.

Each time my mouth opened
I couldn't even answer,
Each word that I stut t t tered was
like lyrical cancer.
I ran around the room like
a Soul Train dancer.
Side stepping her questions
like I was her little **** prancer.
"*******, *****"
my words just got a little fancier.

Whoah!
"Who do you think you are,
are you done spitting it yet??"
You began this little battle,
but I'll be the one finishing it.
My words are louder than gunshots
Cuz, I'll be the one killing it.
I'll just turn my *** around
Cuz you'd be the
one kissing it.
This is only the beginning,
and I'm not finished dishing it

Shhhhit!!

She just broke in with a loud
"OH!! YOU DONE YOUR TIME"
So you can get on outta here with those wasted lyrics,
stupid rap, and busted rhymes.
This is my house, boy,
and you ain't living off this welfare dime.
Now, go cheat with some other hoes
and sip on their Boone's Farm strawberry wine.
Oh and one more thing, you might
want to call 9-1-1,

Cuz I am about to commit
****** on your *** and a misdemeanor crime.

See you were nothing to me
but my little, poor "boy toy"
and when I say "little" ..it wasn't
very much of joy joy.
The only time I got real excited and wet
was when you were walking out
my front door, door.
So, now carry your sorry ***
on over to your ex's house
cuz she was the real effin' *****, *****.

Oh, that 65" flat screen is mine, so is that X-Box,
touch one more ******* thing in here or I'll
double tap your ***
with the pair of my triple chromed 9mm hollow point custom made Hello Kitty Glocks.
Your time is up,
so say good bye once and for all
count it 1, 2, 3 or I'll punch your ******* clock.

Why can I not just leave?
Throwing back bottles of alabaster promises
and sinister ill reprieves.
Caught up in a net of conjugal visits
of past murders, one way drifters, pathetic liars and ***** little thieves.
I am enamored by the poison that
is preached by your careless mind
and heartless sting.
Behind these bars trapped like an animal,
I am all caged up and so please set me free.
Why can't you just walk away ?
instead throwing your insults, your fists
and your sorry *** two faced pleas.

I have become rusty stained, completely drained,
and drop dead vaned.
Gray padded walls enclosed, thrown back hard
with these silly blue pills of
the mentally insaned.
You abused me, bruised me, used me,
and fused me, even God can't
take away my heart felt pain.
Now, stop trying to drive me home
on your *******
mental, abusive, *******, *******
son of *****, crazy train

Can you hear that now?
I believe it is starting to downpour rain.
and I'll say it again to your face many more times
"You are so ******* vain!!"

You think you are better than I am,
with your big, bad, masculine look.
Well here is today's news flash for ya,
Mr. "I Think I Know It All"
"YOU ARE ACTUALLY MUCH MORE WORSE!!"
Oh and one more thing,
Just saying, For Realz,
You are all just one big mouth
with a lot of
"Blah, blah, blah
and
Curse, Curse, Curse"
So you can just go back
to your mommy's house
on the other side town
and steal from her poor, meager purse

I will not be silenced by your idle, childish threats,
your *****, abrasive words no longer scare me
nor will they break down my outer or inner bricks.
My life is not your gambling table,
your poker table,  or your dinner table,
I am no longer willing take on
that deadly life risk.
I will unveil the real mask
of your cruel, ugly world,
so no other can feel the real pain
of your broken, nimble fists.

Sleep deprived dreaming.
You counted the shadows on the wall,
only to see that the real monster is still breathing.
You saw the red bricks drop inside suicidal minds,
only to hear the deaf people start screaming.
Tempers so loud, veins pulsating
around your neck, everyday words
have no meaning.

Just look at those rusted, old stop signs
with shot up bullet holes,
they sit on old, abused street corners near cardboard mansions of the tired and weary
and the $20 crack ******.
Your feet get red and blistered from pounding this
busted up pavement with worn out, useless soles.
You feel like you are standing softly with
a distant shovel digging up your own brittle bones.

This convoluted dream is all broken,
rotten inside spider web corridors,
empty alleyways with bicycles stolen.
You try and sleep with both eyes closed,
but the sun shines through the cracked
window panes
but it is not yet golden.
The loud whispers turned into silent screams,
can you hear me slowly falling?

I saw you beg for change on the corner
of  Western and North.
with your raggedy , torn clothes
and a lot of street sense survival.
You just held up your homemade cardboard
sign for some help, a home, and
Oh!! Thank the Lord,
your own street sense revival.
I saw the tall, gray, city people spit on you
and you just sat there
and read your raggedy, torn bible.

Why does this have to be?
People not caring for each other,
not loving each other, or not praying for peace.
So don't just walk by or drive by
and not give a ****,
like you don't really see.
Maybe that useless soul that stands on the street corner, in those raggedy, torn clothes,
is your mother, your father
your sister, your brother
or maybe it is just, just, just me.

I'll take my time to dance
around this place I call the world.
A place to the many, the few, the rich,
the poor, the fallen and the cruel.

I'll dance a mini waltz across the fields
of the golden flow of wheat fields and drown into
the seas of the deep, as your little toe
only touches the surface of the cold water.

I'll catch each star that I see in the evening sky
while the other
stars wax the dance floor with
velvet memories of constant
tomorrows and melted dreams.

I'll sweep the musical notes
under the rug that plays
from the piano,
as it's  lyrical raindrops hit my heart
softly with countless bliss and
mindless thought.

I'll sift through the symphonies of time
as they cascade their 8 notes in a 2 second beat
off the balcony and then I'll bury their
melodies in my own backyard.

I'll dance with the strings of the harp
interlaced between my fingers
then kiss the reeds of the woodwinds
as they play their melancholy songs.

So please, I ask of you, give me one
more moment
on the dance floor
in this world and let the many, the few,
the poor, the fallen and the cruel dance with me.
Let us take up one more waltz together

Today, I fell into a medication nightmare,
because I don't know why, I really don't care
I DON'T GIVE A ****!!
But I did give a dare !

I lied to you about past aggressions,
deep recessions and loud obsessions.
These jagged little pills are in my possession.

I swallow them whole, one after another,
the red one, the blue one, sister or brother,
see you don't know me any more,
So just look away
and don't even bother

These pills are my family, my welcome mat.
They say "HI, how are you, would you like a drink with that?"
They greet me in the morning and kiss me before my evening nap!!

They take walks with me from the cup to the sink,
three minutes later, my mind stops to think,
I stumble around in lucid dreams,
and two seconds later, I dropped that drink.

Body numbed and pill jar emptied
This medication nightmare just reached out
and bit me.
I opened my eyes and could not see clearly,
and said to myself "What day is it, please?"

I slowly walk with grenades in each hand,
passed by exploding villages, broken fences
and timeless stances
Laundry stained on lines
doing backyard dances.

Dropped bombs echoing the distance,
around corners, shattering windows,
flashbang, all clear,
bullets fly by barely missing us.

See these grenades, the ones I still hold tight,
wrapped up carefully, I can't unwind,
look at me mental
simple and blind.
I'll pull the silver pins all in due time.

Why do I have to walk alone?
Take a look around this place
and stare into the unknown,
I do not recognize this place at all,
this house of sorrow and senseless cold.

I want to pay homage
to the busted streets and broken cottages,
where everyday people are destroyed
with lies and filthy promises.

You see, these are my streets
that I walked with my feet,
Brothers and sisters,
graffiti tagged and full of disease.

This is the place where I broke bones,
Layed down sidewalks full of racial undertones,
With guns ablazing and
suicides growing old.

Gang signs tagged on every street corner,
did you hear the gun shot?
Stop!!!
Yellin' loud I tried to warn ya

Mama, why does it always have to be?
I lost another brother here by my feet.
I am filled with emotions
now gone with deceit

God, Please stop this pain that
flows inside my veins,
the agony, the injury, the silence
the insane.

I can't continue one more step,
this place I call my home
has turned into a wreck.
Lives are destroyed, twisted and upset.

So, look around.
This is my neighborhood.
This is where I belong.
With the busted up sidewalks, I stand strong.

We can not turn back time,
we can only help correct lives.
So let's turn the pages people
and unite not divide.

This is a place of unequivocal cantor.
Where the true poets amuse their audience
from a broken, exploited stage of compassion and sympathy.

A simple stage, where many have fumbled, stumbled and even crumbled.

Just to get up and do it again.

Where many a simple poets have waited and waited, nervously on the sidelines of the underlit bar, waiting for their turn to trip their way up to this stage

Where many a simple poets rustled with each letter of each piece they wanted to perform, hoping they didn't crash and burn

Where a single, frightening stage light burned
holes into their souls as they stuttered
through the stanzas and verse of their careful crafted pieces of art.

Where they tripped their way up to that stage one last time, because they had one too many glasses of wine to drink just so they could spread their wings and fly

And fly they did.

This was the beginning.

Where it all started.

This is, also, where it ends.

A final moment.

This is the moment that can define a poet.

Where poets become human once again and the clock on the wall slowly ticks toward closing time.

So with one final sip of wine, one final piece of their heart, one final chapter of their life written and placed before you, I bid you ado.

This is it

Their last time on this stage and now they can go home.

Why does my life have to be controlled
by the oppressive people in power?

Is it my words that hurt them?

Is it my clothes that hurt them?

Is it my thoughts that hurt them?

Is it my time that hurt them?

Do I need not follow society's idea of normalcy?

I say "**** No"

**** No to normalcy

**** No to the puppet masters that control me

I can walk on my own two feet, thank you

I, also, have
My own two hands to raise
My own two eyes to see
My own two ears to hear
My own mouth to speak
My own heart to pound

And my own perplexed mind to think

They all belong to me and not you.

If you try and squeeze me through the meat grinder of life, I will still be there.

If you want to understand me, just peel back the layers of my canvas and take a look.
Peel back my words.
Peel back my heart and mind.

This is where humanities lies for everyone.
See me for me
and I'll see you for you.

Do not try and control things that you will never understand.
Your oppressive ways will breed hate among the masses and guide all of us to being unjust.

So stop trying to control me

You will fail miserably

But if you continue,
It is I that will drop the bomb on you!!

Pass me the bottle
to my youth,
because I am on another
******.

I think it all started
when I just 16.
My parents were gone.
The liquor cabinet was full
of 750ml bottles
of
of
Yes, AL CO HOL!!

One little sip
of the amber hue
colored liquid
wouldn't hurt,
Would it?
I sure hope not.
Because I was
Alco-curious.

Down the hatch the first shot went.
****!
Oh lord, it burned like hell
going down my throat.
My intestinal track
was screaming ****** ****** at me
to stop this insanity.
Then came the second and third and fourth shot.
And it tasted so so good.
Mmmm mmmm mmmmm

After a night spent
in a spinning room
of mystical illusions
and countless prayers
to the only porcelain God I knew,
I felt
like I needed more.

It all started on a Friday
and ended on Sunday.
The day in which prayers
to all the gods came full curcle.

Four empty bottles laid
scattered across the carpeted floor
and me laying under the coffee table,
with only my plaid boxer shorts and socks on.
My eyes would only half open
and my head was pounding
like a jack hammer and I knew why.

I sought pure enjoyment at that moment.
My first teenage ******.
I truly loved every minute of it
or I think I did. I don't remember it.
Maybe the following weekend
would be my second.

A simple dust covered plastic mistletoe,
that stayed stapled above
the front door all year round
and a carton of Camel smokes wrapped
in red and green wrapping paper,
under the Christmas tree,
with a big silver "store bought" bow on it,
the tag said "Merry Christmas, FROM: SANTA"
is how I remember Christmas.

Ahh!! The Joy of Christmas
and no chestnuts roasting by an open fire.
We did have a real pine tree though.

My highlight of the holidays
was going down to the local VFW
and seeing a "Jolly Old Elf" with a fake beard,
he was really a fat, retired police officer.
But still Saint Nick to an eight year old boy.

You see that was the time when you got
out of the house.
When "he" started downing his
Christmas "spirits" and *******
down those cancer sticks.
The fumes were so thick at times,
I swore I was in LA ,
during rushhour on the 5.

After the frantically ripping open the presents,
us kids would dash off to our bedrooms.
Taking one or two gifts with us,
we created our own
getaway world, our own Christmas of Joy.

Then.

It began.

With voices raised,
even the mice scurried away.
I would wrap the pillows over my ears
and I would pray for peace on earth
and good will toward men.

Ghosts of my Christmas past
still seep into my memory at times
and
they haunt me till this day.

Will you come visit my grave
when I die?
I want to say thank you
and die again.

I was born of dust and bones,
to a battered mother across the pond.
With a warm *****
and gentle hand,
she would cradle me gently.

On a many days,
her eyes would melt tears
into my cotton wool blanket.
I felt her agony
seep through the simple
fabric of our bond.

The coward would stalk
her with his angry words,
Knowing she could not
leave him, because she
feared more bitter moments
of bruises

During the silent times,
her violent screams would turn
to whispers and lost time,
But she would always find a way
to cradle me in her arms.

As minutes turned to hours in the day,
I laid helpless in my crib.
A somber calm shadowed over me,
the feeling of my warmth was gone.
I wept but a single tear down
my rounded red cheek.

I could not cry anymore,
for I feared those angry words
and violent hands.
I laid in her whispers and lost time.
The cradle of her warm *****
and gentle hand were
no longer here.

The sun melted a crayons on my eyes and now I see rainbows

Our winter nights as children
would find us lying next to the floor vent
of the heater, at most two of us at a time, in our old drafty house, just to stay warm.

Dad would line the windows
with plastic and stuff towels in
the cracks of the panes to
stop the cold air from coming through.

A few times, we only had
the heat of our oven to warm up the kitchen,
Several bedrooms were locked up
to conserve what heat we had,
dad would always drip water from the faucet
to keep the pipes from freezing

My parents couldn't afford much
in those days, not on a mechanic's wage,
and feeding a family of eight
Our warmth was what we had,
our bond in the winter months
It' was not much warmth, but it was ours.

Our walks to school were even colder,
bristling through the knee deep snow
in our second hand, Goodwill jackets
and two pairs of thin gloves and socks
to keep our fingers and toes from freezing.

Every morning, my mom would prepare us
either a hot, steeping bowl of oatmeal
or cream of wheat, the smell of dad's military
coffee lingered throughout the house,
long after he left for work.

It was those mornings, I remembered most though,
those 6 am mornings, in a old, drafty house,
you could hear my dad shuffling the newspaper
just before my mom would knock on our bedroom doors to get us up

Its been a month of your passing,
I can still hear you rustle the newspaper
and I can still smell your burnt military coffee
every morning since and I still don't want
to get out of bed

We didn't have much warmth in that old, drafty house, but it was all ours.

Penniless drunk on the lonely streets of desire kissing the concrete columns of my "under the bridge" castle, keeping warm by the trash can fire, eating leftovers from the local Italian deli ... tattered suit of despair and sorrow ... a wee bit of a man

It's just a guise of human indulgence taking the air that I breathe for granted, even though it is laced with toxic chemicals that burn my lungs..I choke on life as I choke on this air ..hack hack

Both heart and mind are
shattered now that you are gone.
For I didn't get a chance to
say goodbye,
But I do have one question to ask of you,
Did it make you proud that I was your son?

Lay prone on the ground,
the needles of the green grass
travel and softly plunge into my skin.

I slowly close my eyes.

I start to feel the insects crawl over the contours
of my naked body. Creeping over every single inch of me, they begin to send electrical impulses of seismic shock into my blood.

I stop breathing for a split second.

My muscles tighten around my bones, no motion to behold, I am locked in place.
Their tiny mouths with razor teeth begin to feed on my skin and I can not scream for help.

I just heard my last sound.

My heart took it's last beat, my lungs took it's last breathe, my skin felt it's last touch
and my eyes saw it's last scene.
Then my mind had it's last thought.

Finally Peace.

You left me like chocolate raindrops hitting a river of mud flowing through a Saint Valentine's Day *******.

You left me like the last surviving, half naked girl running through the forest, during a 1980's
Friday the 13th movie marathon.

You left me like the last piece of pizza, that no one eats, that remains in the open box, that sits on the coffee table all night, after a college kegger fest.

You left me like when your wife leaves her wedding ring on her nightstand, while she goes out to her best friend's Bachelorette party at a strip joint.

You left me like the only kid in your class that never got picked for a game of kickball during noon recess in elementary school.

You left me like the backwash in the bottom of soda can as you offer me a drink, knowing there were no more sodas left in the fridge.

You left me like you do all the crumbs you leave in a nearly empty, wrinkled bag of chips after you were playing World of Warcraft for 16 hours.

You left me like the last match in book of matches as we try to start a fire during a family camping trip, then it starts to rain.

You left me like you did your last boyfriend with a long text that was meant for me, but you actually sent it to my mom.

You left me like the last petal on a thorny rose bush that clinges onto it's last thread to the branch that holds it, during a severe thunderstorm.

You left me like ... one second.

(Scratching my head)

Pause, never mind.

Thank God, You are Gone!!

Hello there,
I saw you on the other side of the room.

Run away from it,
the doll that haunted us both.

Sits in the glass case,
She is right there
with cross, faded legs.
She wears a cracked smile
and stares into your shaken heart

Her eyes follow you across the floor,
Shhh!!
Listen closely,
A voice whispers through the air.

You sit pale in place,
salt encircles your chair.
Rosary gripped by white, knuckled fingers,
then you close your eyes.

She is no longer there!!

The stars are like little pills
at the bottom of my cup.
With jagged edges and deadly powder,
I swallow each one slowly..
They fade down deep into the abyss

Eight ounces of the clear gasoline,
on the edge of the glass, rest the lonely lime,
I tilted up the high ball
and chased the stars into the abyss

The piercing tip of the syringe sinks into my bulging vein, tourniquet tightened, ready to push the plunger.
Mix the poison with my blood as
this addiction has adored me into the abyss