The marks on my shaking hands were hopes.
I need lotion.
Every crack and peel and blister and wrinkle reminds me
That I'm trying.
Trying,
But still not finding the way.
Wondering why I'm still finding myself in the same
******* place.
I need lotion.
I used to portray the peels and the cracks to myself as if they were
reminders,
of how things used to be.
I used to believe that if i waited long enough id stand over them looking down and think,
"Wow, How great it is to have progressed"
Gotten over all of the stress
The anxiety that kept me inside,
Confined by all of my doubts,
and all of my debts.
But I Digress;
I need lotion.
Because the once shining, blinding, Invigorating beam of light at the end of the tunnel that filled my chest with hope
Became barrelling freight train.
I need lotion.
Because it sent me scraping up my hands
stumbling back to the muck from which i started.
I need lotion.
Because I have nothing.
Lately, I just stare in silence.
At the tunnel,
Then at my hands,
and back at the tunnel.
I need lotion.
But the thought of another train coming
Rattles my bones.
So I'll stay here in the dirt to fight my
Battles alone.
I have nothing
Nothing but the cracks and the peels and the blisters and the scabs to mock me.
Society forgot me.
Your God, if he exists, forgot me.
I have nothing.
Sometimes I honestly wish there was a god so then I'd have
Someone to Blame
So i could ask him where the **** he's been and what's the point of all this suffering. (sufferin')
I have nothing
You *******


HYPOCRITE!

Thousands upon thousands follow you off the cliff like sheep.
Their hearts bare the promises that You, a Shepard, wont keep.
Because in the end, the cold truth,

is that you just want to stay warm for the winter.



I have nothing
And you wonder why I'm so broken.

**I just need lotion.

Moods still change with the seasons
and the orbit of the moon.
Eyes are glass
Look into them long enough and you'll see right through.
Eyes that have seen
Life and Death in the most beautiful manifestations
Eyes that watch brother grow up,
And mother grow old.
Eyes that can show me where I am,
but not what's in front of me.
Eyes that don't change the happened
only sit and watch as the world vigorously blackens.
Mostly these eyes are a disguise to hide the lies, depression and anxiety held inside by the so-called perspicacity of the mortal mind.
More often then not I find that these eyes deceive me but
when I'll do whatever it may be within my capability to distort what they are showing me.
Or close them because even the sugar coated delusions are too much for them to bear to see.
But when these eyes close it appears that there's nothing but the truth to take.
So I'll stay awake.