Yes, this may be the crime of the century,
the solution Watson is elementary.
He did it! You see that's not so very hard,
so be a dear chap and inform Scotland Yard.

I am bored with this detective endeavour,
I am tired of being so ****** clever.
Sod it! And eternal damnation to all
I'll just wait for the House of Usher to fall.

Why? You ask my reference to Mr Poe.
It's this apathy that is starting to grow.
I cannot be bothered with all this tripe,
so Watson please fetch my violin and pipe.

I don’t know anymore, how to feel something again
Feels like I’m drifting, lost in outer space, to god knows where
Unanchored from everything, yet my chest is heavy, eyes are lifeless
Each day repeats itself, every conversation feels hollow, insincere

I bury myself in work, not to build, but to forget
Laughter doesn’t echo, smiles barely stretch, just motions
And if I disappear, would it really matter?
It’s not selfish, just silent. Space swallows sound, and maybe it swallows me too.

In this silence, I lay dormant—
I no longer expect anymore.
There’s no pull, no push, just a vast, empty stretch.
The stars hang motionless, indifferent
and I’m no different

Across arms length before myself,
Windowpane translucent amongst the light,
Glowing brightly against the sunrise,
Reflecting the flame within my might

Violet hues, vibrantly bleeding
Into a perceived heaven,
Nirvana nearly taunting,
Impartial only by the second

Cool blues amass,
Blanketing perception,
Ever expanding their reach,
Offering little connection

Dew below rises,
Heated by desire to be known,
Pulled by the gravity of ownership,
Kin only to a cyclone

Glass before myself,
Grazed by wary tears,
Uncertain of any legacy,
Panels become my mirror

Faltering into dusk,
Unsteadily steps lead on,
Dissension unmasked,
Laced starlight gazed upon

Have you ever tasted bittersweet?
Have you ever felt broken, incomplete?
Has life ever not been fair blue skies?
Have you always seen through complacent eyes?

Sometimes, comforting the grieving soul
It isn't easy, but you don't know
Seeing tears, you're repulsed and unsure
You'd rather argue than console

Sympathy was made for thee
Apathy thy familiarest treat
For your lukewarm meals I pity thee
Your have never tasted bittersweet.

mornings are slipping away in a blur,
patterns of certain habitual sadness.
words with no meaning,
disease with no cure.
porcelain dolls, both lifeless and ageless.
haunted by visions, hidden in mirrors,
wrapped in despair, victims and sinners,
chasing the rush of the next final turn.
decades are slipping away in a blur.

~
It feels like the anesthetic is wearing off

This circus of machines

From coin-operated hostility

To wholesale apathy refineries

They tell us it's winter down in the subdermal

They tell us the foundation has grown weak

Dislocation is an incoming storm

Mirrors are distorted screens

Placeholders really

In a city without children

Even the statues weep

Snow upon the ground that was once blood

Now an empire without heirs

Even the trees hate us
~

i don't want to be part of this world
i would rather just observe it
how clouds move through the sky like hallucinations
how they appear then disappear at whim,
turning into milky nothing
i want to be nothing, too

I said I didn’t
but I did
I wasn’t supposed to
give a ****
Never seem to
get ahead
imagining scenarios
in my head
They’re always too good
to be true
I die alone if
I die with you
I die alone if
I die with you

End it when I can’t
seem to think
of anything that
means anything
Add a break then
start again
Treat it all as one
in the same
Treat it all as one
in the same

Repeat it to make
it seem important
It only takes more
energy
The reward is
fleeting
But you’re still
here reading
But you’re still
here reading

And that’s comforting

The end