At 23:28
Is the last bus running
I feel the cold around me,
But Ive no time to hate.
The weather is splendid,
The streets flooded,
The bass booming,
The rain pouring,
I'm dumbfounded.
Why did I leave the concert so early?
I'm paranoid, I'm going.
Taking the bus hoping it'll take me home
And if it doesn't I'll walk I've no shame of my own.
I did walk at the end anyway,
Ankle deep in water while others were hiding
I'd call myself stupid if it wasn't so extraordinary,
Drenched to the bone, the rain so hereditary.
I was singing along then I was running.
Home if I find it, alone while the wind is blowing.
It was the prime act and for the first time I wasn't playing,
The antagonist,
The villain,
The hated,
The worst,
The ghost.
I was simply alive.
The water in my hair,
The razor sharp wind on my cold skin,
My ciggaretes destroyed and drowning in my pocket.
There was nothing that could stop me,
From finally living.

I should move to a brand new city
And teach myself how to die.
Just like Mistki sang
I'm here again.
I've been so many people in so many places I'm tired to ressurect.
The motion and the stumbles
Have gotten me tired.
And now I sit in bed or in the backyard.
Listening to my head or my mom mar.
Me, no-one else.
Telling me how she'll let me know what you can sense,
From your first sniff.
A toothpick and a q-tip and she burns it.
Brings it close to my nostril and tells me to snort it.
And oh is it hurting.
My ear my brain my sinuses begging.
She says ******* is 5 times the feeling
And Im so concerned, I only half confessed to **** why is she showing this to me?
Ah it's another trap I see.
I ask where did she get it?
How would you know mommy?
Have you done it?
Tell me I'll keep it a secret I promise.
"no"
I've had friends die from it.
Oh it's that type of trap, it was anticipative.
Another warning turned life story
Another life story incomplete because I'm not deserving.
Another life another city.
She does it to me, and I become it.
This poem was supposed to be about dissapearing not my lineage.
Now it's both.
A declaration that I won't continue it.
I promise.

I know you're sitting on that chair
So distinguished
Say my body doesn't belong to me.
So famished.
So i hide and sleep my hallucinations away,
Wake and drink my tea like the English men
Smash my knuckles on the furniture to retaliate hell.
Sing to the wooden panels to feel like they care.
Click my pupils into place wishing I'd never use them.
I am curious in my manner of living by simply choosing not to and observing.
I keep on sipping
I keep on inviting,
Never throwing out.
Peculiar to complain about being full of thought,
I guess it's really the time to declutter and make room for heart,
To break, to rummage, to ache.
Make a spectacle out of myself
Bury myself in lust, envy and ***.
To never ask again to only listen to how souls beg.
To be a feminine classic
A delinquent movie where all I can do is dancing and drinking.
My dreams have become masochistic.
I'm tired of being existence so cystic
I used to be benign look where that got me.
Foul mouth, living so parasitic.
I never wanna see my mother, my father, my neighbours, my friends, myself ever again.
Just dissipate
Just titrate
Into dew
Into Rust.
Try to co-exist with dust

Sometimes i stand up and I'm taller than I should be
In the middle of the night, on the wooden floor I feel eyes above me.
I walk around, just a few steps to balance out my shoulders
And when I'm back in the room I'm back to normal.
Sometimes I look at my hands and forget that they're my own.
Sometimes I wake up from nightmares and go back to sleep to test if I still end up there.
Sometimes I step in the shower and forget how to breathe.
Sometimes I drink water and let it pool in my mouth not knowing if I should really swallow it.
To be so alone you start question if you're within yourself.
Am I keeping me good company?
My shoulders and their blades
My hips and their flames
How much is there left of me?

I fantasise about being stapled to the walls of every house I've ever been in
To be glorified iconography
So Jesus crucified could never compare to me.
But I digress and ignore my fantasy
Dig deeper in my denied anxieties
Or at least that how I've been feeling
Taught to believe what my father always told me
"Qui ante dolem plus dolem" scarring my skin.
Reads as follows straight to the core:
"Who suffers before will suffer a lot more"
You see I think that to some I've been just a blur while to others I've been pure life.
I think I'm just a field study for my paternal figure
Too much of a cynical creature too little to inspire.
He thinks he can cheat life by cheating himself but it's all dire
Amy Winehouse knows best she even sang about cheating herself, it's nothing but piling lies onto the fire.
So my father smiles and says I search for disaster, search for situations, imagine doom charging at me faster and faster and faster...
But I interrupt him, I'm rational.
I go in with low expectation so if it turns out for the best I can truly enjoy the consolation and if it turns to be the way I imagined it I can lavish in the universe's approbation.
I say I despise his way of living,
He asks what is there to hate in it.
And i am baffled and injurious behaviour is sparking,
Staggering, stuttering I simply ask how is that he can live so falsely happy so easily, how is it not torturous for further developing.
He says nothing is false, it's all hoping, it's ignoring stress, it's living authentically.
And I think to myself dissapointedly
If only
I was bolted in these walls and didn't have to live, judge or decide.
Just watching cemented in time.