The skies were grey,
Like hidden secrets.
A blemish in nature,
An unborn fetus.
The gold sat near,
But sold to science.
It lay in water,
Product of only God’s finest.

since when did holding a death sentence
in between my fingers,
become such an amazing getaway?

a sense of relief,
pulls away the weight of the world off of my chest,
leaving my lungs charcoal black,
while gazing into the stars,
head scattered with emotion,
numbing the constant sorrow.

“a cigarette won’t **** you”

i said.

but my weary heart and mourning lungs tell me otherwise,
i smoke to get away from reality,
paying attention to only the:

inhale.

exhale.

“save this broken boy”

i said.

talking to the moonlit sky,
well aware not the stars,
nor my hope will save me tonight.

i smoke my lonely cigarette,
burning it down to the filter,
just to be used and thrown away.

“i have it good”

i said.

my thighs
littered with war scars,
cuts deeper than
any man has gone.
they glitter a warm hurt,
as if telling
a sad love song.
hidden beneath
strong layers of linen,
I protect them
like a lion and its cub.
To say they weren’t deserving,
would be quite untruthful.
no one deserves pain
but me, i’m unusual.
born from long nights
and the thick fumes of liquor,
euphoria stench breath
made their minds think quicker.
myself, sitting here,
quarantined,
alone from the petty,
supercilious disaster,
we call the human race.
I look down at my scars in hope.
A lesson that taught me,
a great deal about
the wonders of my
own self esteem.
from hopelessness,
to the calm tide,
that lingers in my mind.
I know what is right,
but when my stars start to fall,
It seems to me,
that I don’t deserve
anything at all.
crying sorrow,
from my glossy,
swelled up eyes,
the demon on my shoulder,
paces patiently,
content with the
same laces as
when we had cut ties.
now the blade,
it has no purpose,
those long glistening lines
made personally by the
conflicted thoughts,
that grew like flowers in my mind,
have slowly faded away.
as time goes by,
sitting right where the
bottled up emotion resided,
lays many scars,
each telling a story
unique from all the others.
I live to see another night,
letting my scars, slowly recover.

i felt miserable,
solemn to the fact,
that giving up
was my harsh reality.

i had dealt with pain before,
but nothing like
the anguish i juggled
in my own hands,
every single dying day,
keeping me up at night.

there’s something about,
sitting all alone
listening to the crickets,
while fueling my addiction,
one cigarette after another.
always finding comfort
in all the worst ways.

Back in eighth grade,
I littered my arms with scars,
told myself no more drugs,
But took them that very night.
always anxious for a way out of my own anxiety,
social and situational always got the best of me.

Took the oath of staying sober,
and picking myself up,
from the debt my heart held that night,
i swore it would stop.

but just like me,
it pushed through,
even when the smoke
filled it’s cavities,
and even when my own head,
lied to me,
over and over again.

My parents always said:

“listen to your heart, and not your head”.

I would miss the old you,
if it weren’t for the constant broken love.

The kind of love,
pieced together like a puzzle.

I regret letting you in,
because kissing you was dangerous.

Your lips were a drug,
i couldn’t stop taking.

My heart was a toy,
you couldn’t stop breaking.

My hope was a life,
you couldn’t stop faking.

I can’t help but wonder,
why you helped save me,

but break me at the same time.

his mind is a broken generation,
every standard is useless,
beating him down
face to the fire,
turning love into hate,
and fun into fate.

with every passing second
it ran through scarred thoughts,
begging for change,
or for the night, turn to day.

It fights the high tide
of tortured tears,
rushing to the shore
like the ocean
on his rosy cheeks,

he held his ground strong.

no man, no test, no job, no day
will cease the light
at the end of the tunnel
he built from scratch,
with only the pride he was given.

Days will feel like night terrors,
the ones he overcame,
as a descendent
before those sorrow years arrived.

But the mind,
can be a beautiful place,
somewhere only you can go.
A place littered with love,
and feelings no one else can feel.

He will fight the battle,
overcome every block in the path,
of unknown stories to be told.

As the night turns to day,
he switches on the sun,
destined for every single moment
sweet smiles, or sour tears,
that will eventually come his way.

From the very first drag,
of newly lit sorrow,
it seemed to heal,
all my wounds.

It burned like heart break,
and died like the moon,
when the sun wakes up,
and lights my whole room.

I miss the night—
A free of charge silent treatment,
I really didn’t mind.
Because I was alone very frequent.

Nineteen-some later,
my lungs wore a frown,
I did this to cope,
when i felt nothing but down.

Say what you want,
but no one tries to help,
I’m held to the fire,
chop liver until death.

Please let this smoke,
be your very last.

we’re so destined to live,
cause there’s always an end—

but no again.

every night i sleep,
on a bed of a thousand lies.

i breathe in the oxygen,
that poisons all my thoughts.

what frightens me most,
is the simple fact that,
getting over me;

was so easy for you.

She stared me down a vacant lot,
holding just a vile,
of one thousand miles,
i traveled to lay where i was shot.

waves of tender hugs,
and secret love notes,
a love worth next to nothing,
a love that’s hard to cope.

she asked me why i had stayed the extra hour,
my head thought the truth
as my mouth decided to shower,
that girl with future demons
and tears she’d never have cried.

but why she follows
everything but her heart,
it’s a mysterious thing about her,
i swear i’ll never master,
like the strokes of a brush
product of every recent thought.

Pungent mask,
shattered hearts live,
for what it’s worth,
I’d give a kiss.

When the sky started to sleep,

So did we.

Struggling to breathe,
our skin turned statue.

Maybe the days we have,
are taken too much for granite.

When depression is active,
we can’t help but see the world,
like death is attractive.
The gloom covers our eyes,
and tucks us in,
like dad once did.

We were kids, once.

Careless to our surroundings,
corruption we’d await to see,
the world could be ending,
but we’d still plan to meet.

It’s a shame my brain,
would haunt me,
for years I will never get back.

Why is emotion so strong?
Always question the love I lack.

We were the center of attention, once.

Born into love, smiles,
and the joy I wish I still saw.
As we grow older,
the clocks tick forward.

Most days begging,
to see the light again.
And to breathe the air,

I did as a kid, once.