Floating on an endless ocean,
clear skies all around,
east, paradise awaits,
below, endless sin,

The apathetic soul does not fret,
closes it's eyes and awaits fate,
because the future is not set,
and it is never too late,

The apathetic soul knows,
but does not care it,
looks but chooses not to see,
the tentacles creeping from below,
slowly wrapping themselves around
the hands, digging teeth into flesh

Soul can feel a tug, sinking in disregard,
it can hear the echos of the eastern haven,
but the sounds of bubbling water feel warm,
against its eardrums,

when eyes open they realize
mistakes of the past cannot be changed,
when you're at the bottom of the ocean
waiting to breathe

Lost inside a clockwork
        Heart attack
        ‎     Waiting to happen
        ‎   Ticking and cracking
        ‎    The silence in half with a second's helping
        ‎           I was hungry and delving deeper into somnambulance
        ‎                      Gambling my waking minutes
        ‎       Away with a hazy resemblance of life
        ‎     The sharpest of minds couldn't cut it out
        ‎   This troubled route gets more fractured with each forced laughter
        ‎             Hours pass faster the faker my happiness becomes
        ‎                    I scrape by on a yearly basis as my days have gone numb
        ‎

Made it, it's another day.

Despite the crippling notions,
Suppressive rain drenching my head,
Detail-oriented accounts of you,
Hours locked in a bed.

Another day.

Food degrading to ash,
Your voice inside my cortex,
Gutting emotions,
A dull machete
"Just give me what's next"

It's another day

Hauntings, a ghostly other lover,
Begging to sleep between,
Because to me there is no other,

"Don't forget me" was said

Thank God, another day

Pleading up a universe,
Disintegrate all agony,
If only for a minute, "let me sleep"

"Let me believe I can feel again in my dreams"

A morrow makes a heart mend, right?

So far, another day
The next day compromise.

The plants that I tended to all summer long,
They were all so fragrant and beautiful and strong.
But somewhere along the way, I forgot they were there
And when they started to wilt, I just didn't care.
I probably could have saved the plants if I had tried.
But I didn't, and so it is my fault that they didn't survive.

My brother had everything going for him, nothing was wrong.
He was so full of life and beautiful and strong.
I felt that little tug, but I ignored it and walked away.
I was the last one to see him alive that day.
I still feel like I could have saved him if I had tried.
But because I didn't stay, that was the day that he died.

My apathy is what killed them, and I know that this is true.
But I can't stop feeling nothing, I just don't know what to do.
The more things that die, the more things that I ****.
But I don't know how to stop this, so I keep standing still.

glass half empty or half full?
why do we even ask at all?
all this thinking takes its toll
on our society of analysis
anti-action and paralysis
it really is a dangerous thing
overphilosophizing i mean
we've fallen victim to the allure
of thinking that we can cure
anyone anything and or any problem
with enough thinking tinkering and or solving
but truly there's really got to be
more to cure the modern malady
of paradoxes and dichotomies
and meta-epistemologies
we've come too far for us to merely be
just because i think we think
if i can really only see
what's standing right in front of me
once it's gone to the periphery
then i'm positive that we'll all have been
over inacting and underachieving
for far far too long


we think too much and do too little
it's not like it's a test or a riddle
we write creeds and manifestos
but there's no credence manifested
if we don't give precedence
not to kings queens or presidents
but to becoming a society-
a people who won't go quietly
whose thoughts and bright ideas
suddenly begin to coalesce
into lives being lived
to the absolute fullest
we need something more
we need a paradigm shift
made from something much more sure
than a philosopher's two cents
but if we don't act now
if we procrastinate and wait
our dreams will just be dreams
and tomorrow will be too late
so then-
if you don't mind
instead of stopping just to analyze and think
i think i'll take that half of a glass
and maybe take a drink

i am the insomniac's day dream
but i am tired of carrying your bags, too
i am exhausted from cradling your face, shushing and swaying and singing lullabies
whispering secrets kept out of apathy
deaf ears and blind eyes and scrambled brain - sunny side up at three in the morning
i am so tired that all i want to do is run and jump and yell and ask why things happen the way that they happen
who set all this up and what do they want from me
what are those noiseless sounds that fill a dark room
why did you take my charles bukowski book when you left
fingerless hands paw at the missing pages
but there isn't anything there, not anymore