why is it that
every time I get home
from interacting with other people
i feel exhausted?

it makes me feel like
they took all my soul and happiness
i succeeded in faking,
and now i want to end all of this.

it's a mindless cycle;
i fake and fake all of what i could give,
and by the end of the day, i'm gone;
used up, and fake it for another more day.

being home completes the cycle.

7AM

My head’s filled with glass,
as the sunlight streams in.
My mouth’s like the desert,
as I groan “never again”.

I fight to sit up,
and my stomach protests.
I swallow back *****,
and it’s almost a success.

I sprint to the bathroom,
and flick on the light,
barely making the toilet,
as the tears blur my sight.

Now I stare in the mirror,
through bloodshot eyes,
splashing water on my face,
as I try not to cry.

Today will be different,
I promise myself.
No drinking today,
the bottle stays on the shelf.

12PM

The aspirin has helped,
along with the food.
Just one beer with lunch,
to lighten the mood.

Besides, says my brain,
you’re more normal this way.
It’ll help you relax,
so just have one, whatcha say?
                    
6PM

The beers took the edge off,
and now I’m more fun.
I’ll just take one shot,
just one, then I’m done.

12AM

The room won’t stop spinning,
and the bottle’s all gone.
My hand is bleeding,
what the hell’s going on?

I stumble off walls,
trying to stay on my feet.
I finally fall into bed,
now, rinse and repeat.

The way you touch her **** slanted thighs,
Caressing her skin as you hear her moan,
You’ll know what she wants when you see her eyes,
To brand her body, to make her your own.
She saw both good and bad life has to give,
Her body became a cushion for rest,
Her feelings are hidden inside her sieve,
Always in a cycle of being undressed.

Why must we crave and long for love when we do not have it,
Only to waste and abuse it when it's in our unworthy grasp?
We search and tear the world apart for a great love
Yet we take love for granted when it is finally tangible
It's a cycle of tears
Too hard to give up
Too painful to repeat

"This too shall pass," say poets dead and gone,
"And soon the green shall come dispel the gold."
But even green shan't stay forever on:
For autumn has new colors to unfold!

The hurt that is a friend of letting go
Is natural, so give yourself some grace.
And when it passes-and it will, you know-
you'll find the wonder here, in this new space.

Circumstances are but temperamental.
Although the same thing ne'er will repeat,
You do not need to be too sentimental:
Another comes that may be just as sweet.

Though tempted you might be to let tears fall,
This ending is of one thing, not of all.

just so tired
of being mired
in the endless fatigue
that works in league
with the utter exhaustion
that makes me feel lost in
the ruthless lethargy
that keeps on charging


just need some shut eye
so desperately, but I
can't catch up on rest
settled into my nest
breathing slow and deep
still can't fall asleep
counting sheep in droves
but unable to doze


instead ironically
I lay here chronically
stuck wide awake
unable to shake
the conscious mind's grip
unable to slip
into the world of dreams
escaping what seems
the waking mind's prison
as insomnia, risen
to almighty omnipotence
flexing its eminence
wards off all the threats
that maybe would let
this body start healing
and this mind stop feeling

so tired
of being mired
in the endless fatigue
that works in league
with the utter exhaustion
that makes me feel lost in
the ruthless lethargy
that keeps on charging

without end

insomnia strikes again

My life starts
when I'm looking through
the glass window
Waiting for the one and only
to come and pick me up

My life flows
day by day, constantly
without a stop
During morning, I'm chosen
to play my role until the night

But my life also ends
even if I don't want it to
I can't escape that
One day, I'll tear and break
and then I'll be thrown out

But it's always worth it
to serve you
the best I can, every day
That's why I wrote this letter
signed with no regrets

Yours sincerely: Clothing