Life is but a series of redundancies strung together. Sitched with tragedy by ****** hands, I only hope not to stain the thread.

Every event in this existence is nothing more than a domino in an endless time loop
, constantly falling/ constantly falling / i am falling.

fact: the name of the spots on domino tiles are called pips and i’ve tried killing myself two times.

The night I snuck 3 orange bottles from the kitchen cupboard and melted into pillows/into bed sheets/ into wooden ikea frame
waking up to not shiny gates but my mother holding a skeleton in the shower
head in a galaxy so far way i almost missed my alarm clock.  
i wanted to hit the snooze but got a glass full of charcoal instead.
mm was just how i like my coffee, black and ***** inducing.

fact: charcoal is among the purest forms of carbon as are diamonds

I am not a diamond, but a piece of pyrite. fool’s gold.

The second time two years later involved a bulk bottle of excedrin
one part aspirin, one part tylenol, one part caffeine.
if you ever try to off yourself i don’t recommend this recipe,
dog ear it in your terminal cook book as do not try this at home
you will lie on your bedroom vomitting your intestines until your parents are tired of hearing it

They will make you go to school the next day.

You wont.

fact: The most common causes of death are heart disease and cancer. Suicide is number 11

My world spilled over like a bag of glass marbles hitting the floor

While she may seem like an angel, crawl closer and smell permeating fear
Her visage morphs - shadows dance on alabaster flesh
Large eyes drawing you in, comforting and innocent
Bleeding lips portray underlying carnivorous greed

So, what if I told you
reality is the dream.
Are you prepared for the
                                         NIGHTMARE?
Do you want to wake up?
Yes, the key is to open your mind and wake up and become one of the socially conscious higher ups in the anarchy we call
Society,
But with great power comes great responsibility.
Honestly, do you believe in the prophecy that our generation can
RISE THROUGH ADVERSITY
Become the masterpiece that God envisioned when he created this tapestry of writers and athletes?
Actually, better yet
Do you believe in the ghost of the past that rest uncomfortably in it's sanctuary?
Are we the Golden Age or are we gilded
We're livid, vivid, driven toward a goal that looks more like a sign telling us we're going the wrong way.
A wicked testimony.
So we're faced with these two options
To wake up or remain dormant
To be a pawn or be a king
To live on our knees or die on our feet
And I don't blame you if you choose eternal slumber
Because we all love to sleep and it's ironic because that's what we look forward to to during each and every day we spend in this dream --
I mean, reality
But, if you choose to lay off the benadryl and take a dose of this "real world"
You may find that missing key you've been looking for.
Or, the glass can be empty and you find nothing but misery and insomnia.
Again, the choice is yours and even if it may SCARE you
Dying on your feet means you learned to walk.
Isn't that the first thing we learn to do?
So maybe our parents actually taught a life lesson
(to our extreme disbelief)
And do know a thing or two
But still, we are the iPhone generation
And they have no clue how to tweet anti government conspiracies and
scroll for hours on tumblr
So what do they know
For all we know they may still be asleep and in the same cheap hotel room as us
So is there to trust
When we dream of gamemasters loving torturing the lower classes and pitting them against each other in death matches?!
Take this match and spark the cowards
Bring light to the revolution and set ablaze the darkening towers
Let's have lucid dreams and rebuild the democracy
Dreams and reality become synonymous and merge into each other to form a new entity and we shall call it
**GOD? YOUR MASTERPIECE!

A lot of time spent
having miscellaneous conversations with the air.
Even stupid questions like "how's your day" acting as if it'd give an answer, or, even more,
a whisper of inspiration
It's an obligation, or, maybe a delegation, or, a confirmation?
that we will create a masterpiece before insane peace
With a piece of our minds becoming a little less peaceful by the day.
Soon our minds will turn into violent catapults hurling out sentence after sentence making our paper bleed
                                                     Black, Blue, Red, Gray
Joining a cult created by the letters we created ourselves
falling into the abyss these stanzas and paragraphs invite us into
And don't get me wrong, it sounds terrible, but it's home.
There's no place like it.
Where these words are so much more than words,
they're family.
But frequently, we get into arguments that erupt into something sinister
and our desks become littered with papers that wilt and wither into nothing more than liters upon liters
of a type of alcoholic beverage that'll tempt us into becoming outspoken drunkards
But that's the goal:
*to be outspoken.

I dreamt that your head
Was placed in my lap
I caressed your soft
Soft hair and placed my
Hand on your stern shoulder
Making sure that you
Wouldn't roll away
As the car drove long
Into the night and
I felt nothing but
Your healing warmth as
I fell asleep, too.
Slowly, then all at
Once. As soon as I
Fell asleep I fell
Back into the harsh
Reality of
An empty bed and
Empty promises
And empty love that
Meant much more to me
Than it ever would
To you. I'm ashamed
That I still feel like
This, I pray that our
Past doesn't haunt my
Future. But who knows?