Black ink drips into clear water; it diffuses.
I am a pebble, thrown,
Skimming the surface until it loses;
I am submerged but not alone.
There is blackness all around me,
Thin but clearly evident.
Water bodies are my happy places;
Black is a lack of color- a numbness.
I could dive into the ocean,
But apathy would follow my path.
I am running, breathing heavily,
But I can't escape the crawling black.
There is an inkwell inside everyone,
But mine- I have acknowledged it.
Try as I have to escape the thoughts,
It latched onto the acknowledgment.

Once in my life, a few years past,
I dove directly to the black,
Hating the world outside my water glass-
The only way to block the mass.

Since then, the ink has followed me,
Bodies of water to water bodies,
Creating a film through which I see,
A subtle, haunting apathy.

We're not so different, you and I.
There is an inkwell inside everyone.
You are sitting on the lid of yours.
From mine, I am on the run.

I blanket my mind
Blurry my view
And nothing but
Fuzzy faces
Fluorescent lights
The hum
Of inane static noise
Envelope my head
Like a shot of Novocain
With the sweet
Sense of distance

Disorientation
Is the only destination
For a world with a compass
Spinning out of control
But to let go
Is to fling into space
Slowly suffocate
And fade away
But the problem is
I
Don't
Care.
Compass
Please fly me
Away from here

do you see how you destroyed
the ruins of an eccentric critter
making use of what's left

she was trying to rebuild a city
during the weekday hurricane
that never stopped
it just gets stronger and stronger

do you know what kind
of critter i am? do you have an idea
of how i adore the horizon
and how i loathe its existence
for i lost during its time

of how i loved staying up at 3am
but it haunted me after september?
you wouldn't know what's hidden
beneath the cracks of my white walls
or under my soiled sheets

i am a detonated bomb
an overflowing dam of heartache
or an active volcano
that could no longer be contained
but i have creative ways
to make room for more

you don't know what's under my bed
and how it scares me every night
you don't know how i tried to love
everything that's left
you don't know how i fought
the whirlpool in the green lake
and you would never know
how i swam against the current

i thought you were my other half
an extension of my left limb
and both legs
but it was on my list
of infinite regret

the city was fine
until you decided to stay
causing havoc
and midnight witchcraft
that makes the night wolves
howl in the full moonlight

but, do you see it?
we just lost a paramount element
in the parallel connection that we have
and dear, im afraid we might lose that, too

Change has a strange way of happening all at.
Once.
There was a tale that believed to be never ending.
Built on pillars that boasted victory from the sands of time.
Only the stormss onslaught continued.
battering any life daring enough to venture out.
An incessant cycle of death.
One that only grew more ravenous with every meal.
Only to discover that the beast turned machine some time ago.
Just as the landscape did.
Leaving the inside as vacant as yesterday's tears.
And so the tale concluded.
Not with bang.
Or A crash.  
But a whisper.
No grand exit.
And no goodbye.
For its only a chapter in this ever growing novel of disappointment.
And with welcoming arms does the darkness insist.
The right choice was always so obvious.
And now perspective is all that's left.
So one must ask.
Has hells chains ever been removed.
Or has the minds eye been shut all this time..

At what point does sadness step into depression.
Memories fade to entertaining images.
Yet havent brought a smile for some time now.
The faces that brightened up the days.
Have moved on.
Leaving small keepsakes behind.
But one dares not touch them.
In fear that they too will evaporate.
Erasing their existence all together.
Even now.
Some erode with just the mere thought.
Of what was once held so dear.
What is to become of it all.
Everyday that inches by.
Does an inevitable page tear itself away.
And submission.
Has only brought cold fingers to numb it all.
This transmutation has coiled silently around its unaware prey.
Once was their comfort found in its constricting grasp.
Even now..
Does it not seem the way it is.
For with every precious moment devoured.
Is there one less to look back on.
In melancholy.