There is a cold tingle upon my spine
Cold hands wrapped around my feet
The sun I see is a harsh line
On wooden panels
Perhaps I should go back to sleep

The clock strikes a weary noon
Silence meets my wake
Eyes open to the same old room
Chained by indifference
Different days spent standing in place

Beneath my sheets I stir and twist
Eyes flicker with dreams
My mind grasps me with an iron fist
Trapping my physical form
And tearing at all of my seams

These are not human beings
flourishing amidst their modern backdrop
of screens and social media
and likes and retweets and the like

These are not smiling faces
aboard the train on their daily commute
heading to the job they hate
so they can come home to the family
who doesn't love them

These are not happy marriages
packed with love and affection,
But more like a failure
just a worthless, shattered piece of glass
that we grind beneath our shoes on the floor

These are caffeine and adderall-driven bodies
holding guns to their heads
as they **** down a coffee
right after getting no sleep for the millionth night in a row
so they can go to work and contribute to society

Society that is cutting-edge
Society that is the greatest yet
Society like a train with broken brakes
Humans like robots

These are silhouettes
with their souls ripped out of them
These are dead bodies
murdered

If I'm on the mend
are you mad at me?
I can quit.
I choose you,
over most things.
I am
The Fool.
Are you conscious of what you want?
You confess all your want for me, and it's sweet,
but the important details are missing.
What do I do for you? What can I do for you?
Can you name one?
I thought not,
but that's okay,
you silly thing.

Hours of fruitless frustration,
Rotating slowly through paltry poses,
Crushed by substantial somnolence.

Innumerable thoughts racing rightward,
Abruptly leaning left,
Splitting up like schools of frightened fish.

Darkening the room to calm cares,
Plumping the pillow to enhance elevation,
Removing the phone to disrupt distraction.

Turning up the fan to aid complacent cool,
Pulling up the blue blankets,
Burrowing deep as if a mother mole.

Yet nothing brings the sought silence,
The rejuvenating recovery,
Of simple sleep.

you took your thumbs
and brushed them over
the bruises nestled above my cheekbones

my eyes, half-closed, but so bright
because the warmth of your palms on my face
kept me from losing my mind

i'm so tired
my fingers, my brain, my soul
i'm so tired but you still hold me

I’m screaming ******!
****** ******!
But no one’s listening
They pass by my pool of blood
And call it painted water
Why can’t they see?
Or are they purposely blind to me?

Where has my blood gone?
I see it pouring out knife wounds I can no longer see
Vision fading
Vision faulty
I’m screaming ******! I’m screaming atrocity!
I’m screaming “please don’t hurt me!”
I scream and I scream
But my screams are just whispers
To their ears

Why did they ****** me?
I’ve done nothing worthy
I am not worthy of their hate

Perhaps when I’m gone
I’ll come back as an angel
Perhaps when I’m an angel
They won’t want to hurt me

Perhaps if I’m an angel
I won’t feel like an outcast
Perhaps I’ll be better when I’m gone...

Oh moment of silence
Wash all over me
Block away the noise
Wash away my agony

I have been used and abused
By humanity
I have been hurt and misunderstood
By those I believed cared for me
Those I gave myself to
Oh moment of silence
Please
Won’t you wash away the pain?

I have loved and lost
And then tried to love the world
But lost it too

If I gave you my heart
My body, my soul
If I showed you my tears and my words
Would you try to understand?
Or use my life-force as fuel?
Would you ridicule, all I hold dear?
Would you ridicule, Me?
I surrender.

So I’ll just give myself to a world
I know will discard and disregard me, too.

Melted into my cushion below.
Wood before me, ceramic circles.

Cold vibrations buzz in the air,
Carrying tales.
The same... but different.
Repeatedly blasting my eardrums,
Gripping my mind in a chokehold.
Pounding in messages all the same.
Dreadfully, droning. On and on.

Where is it coming from?
The icy daggers that pierce me deeply,
Killing my hope?

In front, on cushions of their own.
Countless figures lined up with circles.
Shadows, smiling and laughing. Repeatedly.

Same stories. Same atttibutes.
Distinct figures externally.
Each internal voice... the same.

My ears lift like feathers.
Flying in hopes of warmth.
Only to meet the same,
Inconsiderate.
Icy.
Instruments under each figures nose.
Eating their flesh on ceramic circles.

As my wings fold, I sing my song.
Warm but filled with color.
Scented with lavender.
Tasting of pepper.
Rainbow vibrations warm the table.

The figures become clearer.
My friends, family, strangers all near.
Talk of themselves everyday all year.
My words distinct. Reach every ear.

Strange questions and tales; none true.
Alone at the table but surrounded I sit.
Wishing to hear my words returned.
My wings stay chained, my heart cold.
How many jokes have I told?
How many smiles have I seen?
How long has it been?

Speak for them. To drown them out.
Leaving smiles on every mouth.
Have no friends and get no help.
Speak to them, talk to myself.