For me, the world is small,
Yet I don't get it at all,
I know that it thrives on money,
But then I don't get why people care for principles & morality,
I don't get what people are trying to say in reality,
This small world speaks between the lines,
Full of mirth less laughter and emotionless whines,
This small world of mine which I look at, through the screen,
Now that world of mine appears less mean,
I think it's all about the quest of finding your world within the world,
Somewhere where the faces are not blurred,
A place where I light a candle and that's it,
The electricity can make someone else's bulbs lit,
But sometimes I fear if I do light that candle by finding a matchstick in this technology,
Will that be enough for people around me?
But you know what, the thing is, even if that candle melts to its death,
I'll take the wax, heat it on a forest fire and give it birth again.
Maybe I'll do it,
Even if I do, then again, what for?
I wish I knew how to deal with this, this isn't me, this never happened before,
Bloody world makes you grow up and then leave you like a wild boar
To see if you roar or become a bore,
Is that the point of it all?
What a sad drowsy ball.
-S.N.N.

From the eye of a nihilistic photographer being made to go through rites of  electrical engineering.

I know life is chaotic, but this is getting crazy.
Due to fatigue from work, I'm always feeling hazy,
And I'm being made to pull the weight of the lazy.
Not to mention, the babies mom is scazy.
I can't partake in my herbal remedies any longer,
And due to that, the bad nerves are getting stronger.
I don't think that thinking is getting easier,
Now that my life is becoming a tragic crowd pleaser,
I'll ride across the ocean on the head of the Titanic,
And before hitting the iceberg, hit the alarm and cause the panic.
Maybe this time around, I can change how it goes,
Maybe this time around, I can make it rain instead of snow.
Maybe this time around, I can cut the brain to the show,
And show all who oppose me just how low I'm willing to go.
I'm in a staring contest with the sun,
Waiting for what I've seen and been through to be undone,
But mother nature must have some form of a different plan,
Because I feel about as bad as a ran-over tin can.
Nothing works the way it should've been,
And I'm stuck in an endless cycle of sin.
I'm caught between being a warrior in the streets,
And being a producer of life changing beats.
Nothing matters in this world unless it's given meaning,
I haven't fallen since I got up, but I started leaning.
I'm tired, and the concrete bed before me looks cozy,
And I don't know how long it'll be before life tries to dose me,
So with the last bits of consciousness I have left,
I press charges on life for it's
Energy Theft.

Khaniek Jul 6

I define you.
Whatever you are,
is only because of me.
How dare you run further than my thoughts allow.
The very essence of your being is through my feelings, understand your boundaries.
I've placed you in this space for my own purpose. You will not defy what I will have you to be.
In the very breath that I whisper empty promises,
Even with my lies, still you have no choice in this matter.
Without me there is no you.

Did I ever tell you
Why I stopped drinking?
Why I am so terrified
To take a sip alone?
How that one time after class
My heart was broken
And I skipped the glass
And drank straight from the bottle?
How I crumbled into a ball
Under my favorite blanket
My mind screaming through the halls
Fighting off the demons trying to drown me?
Of course I always want to die
That's something I've learned to live with
But never before in my life
Had I known that I could give in.
Yet there I lay crying
Wasted with a racing mind
Begging to give in to dying
But instead I went to sleep.
So when my depression intensifies
And I run to my substances
I am so terrified
So alcohol is the last option.
Because it could be my last decision.

Alec 5d

How does one
Make the choice
Between
Suffering and death

How does one decide
Between
Being alive
Out of spite
Or giving in
To rest

When the world
Seems so against you
Should you just give in?
Or should you keep on fighting
And find a way
To win

The world will keep on turning
But you should keep turning too?

How does one
Make the choice
Between
Suffering and death

With someone's life
Laying in your hands
How do you decide
What is right

If they choose wrong
Do you choose for them?
Do you choose what they want
Or what you feel you need?

No matter what you pick,
Will you still feel guilty?

How does one
Make the choice
Between
Suffering and death

When everyone says
I'm here for you
But no one really means it
Where do you turn

Are you okay?
Starts to anger you
How does life go on?
When you go through
What you go through

How do you make those choices
How do you decide
How do you know what is right
Or what to do

Carter Ginter Sep 11

I take comfort in knowing
I could jump if I wanted


My legs swing over the cliffside
Kicking away the loose foundation
Crashing waves echo across the dirt walls
While the sun paints my back.
I feel nothing but these icy winds
Chilling my limbs until they match my frozen heart
The rising hairs and bumps along my arms prove I'm alive
I wish my mind worked the same way.
If I could, I'd spend forever by the water
Watching, listening, feeling
Connecting to the earth that surrounds me
Bleeding ink onto this notepad until I feel numb again.
But life is never perfect and
I have to finish my degree
I feel stagnant and powerless
Stuck until I finish my commitments

Unless I make the choice to stop breathing

And instead live forever
As one with the sea

Devin Ortiz Sep 10

I'm Jekyll
Alcohol is Hyde

Is that not the parable?
The moral of the story?

I am not compelled,
I don't need the drink.

But a few too many,
And its a self destructive streak.

Is that alcoholism?
Is that abuse?

The first step is knowing,
And its been quite some time.

So I stick with few or none,
Hoping to be just fine.

But do be wary,
For that few too many.

Because you'll lose it all if you do.

Doctor doctor
I need some therapy
It has been hell for me

I'm still here
Counting my blessings
Hoping they rescue me

Where do I go from here
Am I less of me

Doctor say something
Please just talk to me

You need help and I'll help you

Time for some therapy

Doctor doctor
I feel like a pawn
I want to be a king piece

The problem I have
Is someone is still playing me
Folding me at every crease

How many steps do I go
Let my soul rest at ease

How did I end up here
Standing or on my knees

I see that you have a problem

Time for some therapy

Doctor doctor
This is session three
I don't feel any better

Every problem I fix
One just cones around the corner
I don't know why the pester

How am I getting by
I feel like this is a letter

One eye open one eye closed
Now this seems like a jester
Am I trapped in a closet
With a jacket or sweater
And it keeps getting hotter
Regardless of temperature or weather
I know this is a rant I am going off tangent
But this word we call pain i cannot even imagine

- silence breaks in the room -

1 second
2 seconds
3 seconds

The doctor smiles stands up and walks to the door and opens it.

I see that you know the problem

Time for some therapy

Copyright Matthew Marquis Xavier Donald 9/9/2017
Wasting wits Sep 4

In my garden,
I've planted a seed.
It took a while,
But eventually sprouted a tree.
I would sit underneath,
In the relief of shade.
It was the hottest summer,
The sun had ever made.
I pondered of things,
Untold and unseen.
And the tree would support,
My back as I lean.
As the winter dawned,
Something happened.
I stopped visiting the tree,
And it gradually blackened.
The tree grew old,
I did too.
It was there many years,
But I visited it so few.
That very tree,
That had kept me cool.
Held on to it's life,
Although life is cruel.
It held on for me,
And that I can't repay.
So I'll set it free,
I'll walk away.
The tree has many more years,
Than I.
I'll hold it back,
If there I lie.
Someone will come,
To take my place.
But until then,
That tree will hold an empty space.

I miss you.

You knew
exactly how much
space to give me when I was angry.
The correct questions to ask.
The way to calm me down.

It wasn't your job
but you did it regardless
and you did it well.

So now I sit here smoldering in the feelings I cannot control:
The fear.
The anger.
The regret.
The relief.
All the self hate and sadness are choking me.

I don't know what I want,
But you're my best friend.
And I fucking miss you.

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