Feelings drained: ensnared in the relentless grasp of time’s
drain — spiralling just before the inevitable plunge; a descent
into nothingness. The narrative unfolds; a black hole nestled
in my chest; I am its plug- feeding it every toxic craving to fill the
void. The chill seeps in as I lie sprawled on the floor, gazing up
at the distant heavens.

I should shield my eyes with memories of the Word, yet I
find myself lost in the endless scroll of my phone — I ought
to whisper words of encouragement on the days when coping
feels impossible, but my lungs are heavy with smoke.

I need someone to explain the enigma of love, yet all I crave
is a taste of every girl that crosses my path. In the mirror, I see
only a ****, masked with a genuine smile draped over a hollow
shell, devoid of thought; it simply seeks gratification, even if
too much indulgence leads to regret.

I’m addicted to pleasure; yet each fleeting moment leaves
me feeling the least pleased.

Everything has gone by so fast
4 years just zipped by
It’s mostly a blur
I can somewhat remember the bad decisions
I can definitely remember the pain
And now everything has slowed down
I’m just barely moving at half mast
My dreams and memories of youth have become my only muse
I wish I could relive it
And regret doing it all at the same time
The speed and thrill
I claim to be past that phase
I claim I would never venture into those pits again
But is that really so?
It must not be
Because the short hand leads me to midnight once again
dragging me into the same old vicous cycle I've come to love
so without the strength to say goodbye, I will fade back into the isolation that has become my only comfort

It’s amazing how an addiction, can grow,
Taking over the human mind, cell phones, televisions,
Computers, the largest ever, to attack, the human race.
Think about the past, television, was totally free,
They start to sucker you in, then they say, cable & satellite,
You pay a fee, there will be no commercials on your TV?,
Your water or gas bills, at your home, you pay for what, you use,
Everyday, to put things in prospective, your television, and sewer,
They charge what ever they want, for waste, no meter, that’s,
Twenty four hours a day, if your home or away. Then they took,
Over the cell phone business, the same people, if not, their bed partners,
How else could they, sync everything together, without your permission,
Any time, on any day? The make many think the cell phone is what,
Keeps them alive, many would be totally lost, with no screens to stare,
At, just for the average person, many hours, in one day.  Vacations,
Use to be a getaway, relax, Leave the phone at home, no way.
People store, more personal information on their phone, than,
They would discuss, with their best friend on any day,
It’s sad, to think humans trust, strangers, more than people,
Close to them, and pay them, and they have no responsibility,
If all of your information was stolen away. Many people,
Can share a home, car, even a pet, mind control,
Share a cell phone, no way!

The Original: Tom Maxwell © 02/11/2024 A.D.

I wish a dream was easy to buy into
like a cancer stick;— dying for a piece.
Inhaling vapors, and blowing off
smoke in a puff of dreams.

Life is like a cigarette; an addiction
to living with feelings of regret.
Time is all ashes, slowly deducting
your frame till death,
And love consumes the lungs;
too much of the wrong kind,—becomes toxic.
To advertise the biggest buyers of such dreams
for a rich life like a **** cigarette;
To be honest with the kind of addiction,
being rich appears costly.

But I guess if I'm an old truck blowing
smoke, it just means I'm exhausted.
Addicted to the cigarette life,
whether tip toeing, or running towards death,
either side, do play it cautious.
Cos whatever end you smoke the cigarette,
all roads lead to death.

I was raised in my father’s ill-timed
           old ways: as a man saying how he feels,
           was like ash in his ashtray. And I had
           smoked up a few reasons of not finding
           certainty; but instead finding answers in
           all addictions as a troubled youth.

I remember looking for a quick fix,
          like a constant broken clock—
         without a lot of time.
         As it felt better not to admit to why I
         was crying secretly at night, and instead
         going around faking all of my smiles.


As I never once felt like I could fit an
        ounce of myself in my family, and
        sometimes the thought of being a
        mistake would be a thought I’d accept
        so gladly.
“I’ve been a fool, I’ve been a ******,
           I’ve been an idiot, I’ve been a coward,
           and I’ve been less than a good friend,
           Feeling less of myself most times, in
           saying I don’t amount to anything”—
           were all of the things plaguing my head.

I’ve been so sick of love,
          pretending to have known it as much
          And to my luck, I’ve been unlucky enough
          to know the way I lived felt like a vortex,
         cos it always ******.

Sprung out on how I forced my appearance,
        sitting on bottled emotions, ignoring
        how I’m really feeling— all thought
        to show a man in their great zealous.
        Such a lie it was; and a door to the
        knowledge of depression, that I tried to
        hide so well, with years of experience.

Cause I was taught,
          “real men don’t show their feelings”
           Still what are these feelings, I’m feeling?

Feeling sad, depressed, a mess,
          who can’t confess that sometimes
          he's a mess and not always at his best.
          Still, self-perfection isn’t what the
          whole world expects. And unless this
          boy chooses not to digress from tackling
          the feelings that have him compressed; that
          boy will only be a boy who still sits in their
          mother’s nest.

Cos no bird will truly soar where it rests—
          so would I; never be a man in this crazy
          world, by just covering up all of my sores
          in my heart with a bulletproof vest. I
          already swallowed up those bullets; choking
          up on all of the words of, not saying
          what’s beating at my chest.

Today, today marks the day,
          I threw out that **** ashtray.
         Cos the ash in that tray, made me feel
         like, the *** of the day. And I refuse to
        do the donkey-work, of pretending that
         I’m always okay.

        No, I'm not okay, because I’ve spent
        my life being burnt by the scorching
        ash, in that old ashtray.

                          It’s time for healing.

As you close the curtains
I close my eyes too
But i still feel
What ive always felt for you.

And when the sun awakens,
So will you.
Maybe youll apologize,
Sometimes you do.

Whats been accomplished here
Im not sure.
Im constantly on a swing
Back and forth from
Can i love myself
And love you.

Im not sure what my goal is here
Maybe i was placed as a lesson
For you.

Im tired of being the lesson
I want to be the prize.
I want to feel desired.
Empowered.

Your eyes locked in mine

I am the fixer
I dont want perfect
I will always water you
Even if its not worth it.
If i dont get anything back
At least i am with purpose.

But your soil has dried out
I pour myself over
Nurturing you
Every last drop
I squeeze out to water you.

Your roots are too damaged
My flow still everlasting,
I seem to think.

But each drip you take
Is thrown away.
I take the water
That I desperately need
And give it to you.

Clinging to each moan
Each time we electrute

Infinite energy.
My *** is empty
Yet i know I have more,
So i keep going.
Your eyes and mine
Align.
But then the stars say, its time.
You cant turn from truth
When its looking your right in the face.
Begging you, to not run away.

You need to take a look deep inside.
I am the prize.
But we've lost track of time
Fun times turned to addictions
Actions turned vindictive
I know that white powder is so pretty
But its not a human being.

I miss being
The one you want to touch
Even if its lust.

Yearning for the day,
That i look in the mirror and can accept my face.
In my eyes,
All i see is damage.
Most days i see in grey.

I want to explore.
******* tired of being ignored.
So please step up,
Do you have what it takes?

If not, sit down
And let the next man take your place.
I have too much love to give
Jokes to have
Laughter to live
To sit here
And accept this fate.

Na
Im taking control of my day.
Ill be the one to put a smile on my face.

K.c

“Look after your Soul”,
that old preacher would say
Cherish with your life
or it may wither away
Take care, to take care
and guard it well
Lest it becomes so sickly
it’s fit only for Hell