When I was born
I couldn't say words





When I was a child
They couldn't understand





When I grew up
They stopped listening





As I grew older
I slowly became them




As time reciprocates what I tell you,
The words that escape will tell time.

Could a song touch me?
Run its fingers
the length of my soul?

In truth it makes me wary
Of the power it holds:
To morph my mind is to
Morph my soul.

People, they touch me.
People are souls.
Souls cry out with life,
You might say they sing.

A song, a person, a soul?
Same thing.

You walk
upon this Earth
like an
opened wound
all soured smiles and
doughy nosed

But one day you
will learn to lick your
own wounds
then heal
unhurried by
the sullen hours
of
slowly melting
the days
into alchemy

flesh for scales

fish-tailed
and finally free...

Looking down from the 7th floor of this 6-story apartment


In my head I calculated if it would work


And if I should even leave anything behind


"Don't waste your time on me anymore"
That's what I've wanted to say


But there would be no point in trying to get through


No more anything anymore


If I just make myself go through with it

I just want to go back

To another me

Back to the first story

A story I have never told anyone

Long forgotten and buried under

This pile of misdirection and lies

One day I will find it, so until then

I will keep digging out my insides

And I won't stop


Because god has an apartment complex

To renovate
Renovate
Renovate
Renovate

Perseverance is fleeting; there are times when
failure overwhelms all senses
and seeps into your thoughts like
black ink upon fibrous paper.

It taints your perspective on the world
and targets your weakest points
to fuel the negativity and self-doubt, leaving
nothing but hatred toward your own mind.

We all experience this at some point in our lives,
but some people must face this beast
time and time again, always expected
to recover for the sake of others' reassurance.

Escaping the sorrow may seem unfeasible;
broken wills may seem irreparable;
the prospect of recovery may seem preposterous
and hope might feel lost.

When you believe that life's purpose is sinister
and that continuing on is a punishment to be feared,
just remember that perseverance is fleeting;
but you've made it this far.

I can't get so bogged down
Like i do now
So often its
Boring to be found and
Lost at the same time
Finding time to lie in
My bed, or a coffin
Whatever works
For better or worse

Plans I don't make
Can't really change
Or fall through at all
Funny enough
My whole things been
Mauled and I'm standing here
Coughing and blocking out
More ideas

Pretentious melody's play in my head
But I can't slip into
Real world explanations
The sky can only be one of two colors
A sentiment tied to
One or the other
Or I'm left wondering why
It has to be

I'm still sick of every friendship I make
Its hard to examine the memorys
What I take, and what i leave behind
Trivial, and i wish i had a bit more
Control

I don't care about my future
Irregardless people will still be
And treat me the same
Way, and I'll still be pining for
The same things
Guarded and
Mostly friendless