Overkill, that's what this is, a battle uphill
Who cares? We're just in it for the thrill
Excuse me, miss, can I have the bill?
Pay it off with a twenty-dollar bill
Gotta get to the bullfighting in Seville
This is what I do, you could say I'm mentally ill.

Better get a check-up with Dr. Phil.
I'll just tell him rhymes are what I instill, its a unique skill
Keep doing this even when the world is spinning like a windmill
Like the Storming of the Bastille, there is no escape, take a sleeping pill
Deep water runs still, I'll toss you on a George Foreman grill
Make your Last Will and Testament, because this is overkill.

I want to paint you
as the night sky
the darkness that is I
illuminated
by indefinite stars,
that is You.

He told me he could wait
regardless of what he wanted.
promises flew at 60 per minute
from lips and trembling fingers,
falsities billowing out with strain smiles
all because of the clock above his head
a constant ticking, reminding and controlling
as if it were a religion
as if it were his master
Creature of Habit
have you seen your master;
gone to communion today?
remember all you’ve wasted with each breath,
each blink becomes a hash closer to death
but they all claim patience and restraint
pulling against chains not clearly visible
golden lips whispering at 60 per minute
regardless of how they speak, they act;
They claim they could wait

My low spirits welcome me mostly at night because they're proud nocturnal too. They love their state of insomnia to an extent where they start harnessing the hyperbole of nightly enthusiasm. They enjoy the perks of insomnia too much. They don't even allow me to peek through the orifice of their so-called exuberance. They don't want me to interfere in their matters so they just kick me out. They just want my body to dangle so they can play with my soul but I don't let them dangle so they yell, yell, yell and yell. When I ask them the reason of their worthless yelling, they yell more. :I

You had me. At three in the morning. When we sat in the car for hours so we could listen to the rain as it hit the windshield. When the sun was beating on my back, begging for attention. Whenever you'd put your hands in your front pockets and rock back on your heels. When I realized that every step you took caused an earthquake. When you kissed me like your life depended on it. When you said that it did. When you told me you loved me for the first time in a grocery store parking lot. When you'd call me at 2:37 in the morning to tell me that every tree you see reminds you of me. When every cigarette your fingers touched turned to dust. When you told me you missed me too. You had me.

It's been a year since I had a drink,
but three months since I had a cigarette

Each day I feel myself slowly fading away,
and I am scared I'll end up slipping back into my old ways.

The panic attacks at night come back,
and all I need is a way to rant.

I turn the music on full volume,
because I need something louder than the voices in my head.

I stare at my bedroom walls till past 2a.m on a school night,
I blame insomnia, but my mind is the reason why.

I can't stop myself from thinking back to when I actually slept at night,
and when my hands didn't shake all day long,

I feel like I am just a pair of eyes,
watching as the world goes by.

I am just a bystander,
while everyone keeps moving.

I started to feel nothing again,
letting things go on while I stood still.

I've never been good with spoken words and maybe this is why
because everything just seems to spill out in rambles and tangents
like trying to follow a scribble cloud as if its a map to buried treasure  
locked deep inside with the secrets and I could never quite tell you,      
not straightforward anyway, how I felt when you sat in front of me,         
but that's not an excuse, and maybe I shouldn't tell you that when I           
see you I feel like I'm being drawn and quartered with every emotion        
pulling selfishly at me but maybe that's just me and perhaps I'm over          
exaggerating the momentum in which my heart holds my head but I         
can't say for sure because all I can hear is a constant drumming…         
constant drumming... constant drumming… and it never stops           
even as the sun sets and you, so far away, somehow crawl into my    
head as if its a warm hearth in the middle of a blizzard, but I am the
exact opposite and if my words don't convince you than perhaps a    
cold shoulder will burn the idea into the soft skin of the arms that used    
to hold me when I cried about those stupid little things that I laugh at      
now and you'd laugh with me, oh that laugh, would fill me with a heat   
that could challenge all the stars in the universe and yet it flickered so      
quickly like a single flame suddenly at the will of a breath that has            
become so shallow and shaken by the tears of something deep inside      
shattering at such an immense speed that everything else is slow motion   
in comparison, and maybe my head is right to think that you're no good   
for me, but don't think for a moment that I could possibly keep you out  
of the mind that has become so crowded and yet you sit in the center of
it all like a king, or perhaps a dictator, that knows he belongs there in
that crowded space just under my ribs echoing with that beat, that constant
drumming that runs through my body like a relentless river as it destroys          
everything in its wake and runs along a silent stream of thoughts and words           
that pour out of my mouth when I open it…                                                              ­

and that is why I am no good with spoken words.