Alone
That’s all I am
in this open empty state.
And exhausted.
                                  So fricking tired.
Physically,
mentally,
emotionally
exhausted.
     And the glass feels half empty.
Though the sky is so full;
I can’t help but feel alone.
Because no matter how much love
is handed to me
faked
for my benefit,
for their gain,
it’s nothing real.
There’s nothing gained
only lost.
One more broken piece
of myself
handed away.
               One more wasted day.
useless.
And wasteful.
But hopeful, at least.
Maybe…
      Am I even     progressing?
Or am I moving
backwards?
to the crap that used to be…?
I can hold myself up,
but after so long
my strength goes slack.
     because I know what I lack.
I feel so dang alone
          and can any of us
                                  really,
                    ­                       make it alone?

You turn left and right,  
you're on the right path you know it too.
Your feet know it.
You try to ignore all the sensations and vibes that you know come all at once like the wind. It happens less then a few times but those are the times that that left and right seem so beyond impossible to follow.

You
try
and
try
to ignore it.
You
try
and
try
to shove it farther down into you.
You
try
and
try
to blame it on something else.
You
try
and
try
to inflict it.

You try and nothing works.

i've been contemplating, contemplation
running rampant in imagination
my mind had been emaciated
now emancipation is long awaited
the plot's under development
some say it's not intelligent
but being rowdy has some gain
living life without restrain
searching, seeking, self-aware
within a secret love affair
so popular with the profane
human nature can't explain
trying to make lemonade
trapped inside a masquerade
confident inside the mind
leaving others far behind
letting loose the known restrictions
fighting, failing those addictions
lying in order to conceal
the truth is, I cannot feel
but there is still satisfaction
watching every reaction
are these actions of the insane?
life becomes a giant game
then the thoughts begin to fade
and the ideas that they have made
I start to contemplate again
the game's impossible to win

Everyone wants to know what
you're doing these days.
No, they just want to know
if you're disappointing them.
You will. That's me.
I want nothing but to be free.
Strings attached to everything.

Saw a statue, a memorial for
Christopher Columbus.
Reminded me I despise people,
and the rampant white supremacy
that everyone ignores or chuckles at
while keeping in place in their
own small and insincere ways.
I despise most strangers.

Need to paint it red with blood,
tear it down, cut off the hands,
set it on fire.
Want to make it hurt.
Tired of most things.
Why do the days take so long?
I feel like I'm not doing this
nihilism thing correctly.

Can't gain steady foot space
and I'm already trying to dance.

The gym teachers face,
the glare of the flames' light in the glass of his eyes.

The panic is so real, one by one each turning,
where did they think the flames would go?

A beat and then the  alarm washes in like a riptide,
carrying the sock-clad feet out the door so orderly.

It's only heat I say, it's only destruction in all it's mess and perfection.
It's only what I've been wanting to tell someone forever.
That while we balance on these bars, I fall twice as often.

Right hand outstretched, a fist of the gym teachers simple encouragement, the left holding only every fear I've known.

Smoke your frozen
blue eyes away
Place all your
days in a daze

Take a shot
Take a hit
Take some E

When you fail
Don’t blame me

Hide from yourself
Hide from your kids
Hide from all three

Take a hit
Can’t forget
Can’t break free

Got that sinking feeling,
like a man taking off in an elevator.
Going up but somehow left behind.
I got that, "your time is up" aura
drowning me from all around,
inside and out.
Like being eaten by ants.
The hand that twitches
at high noon.
The ex-fastest.
The wick at it's end.
Wax running off the table.
Dying in a fever dream,
cold towel on my head.
Obsolete technology in a dump
next to banana peels and
soggy pornographic materials.
Yesterday's news being shredded
into todays toilet paper.
From a greasy grumpy retail worker
all the way
to a corpse in a crash test simulation.
Being fed your own organs,
genitals first.
Standing in a hail of glass
without an umbrella.
Standing at the edge of the world
with an Antagonist behind you
in steel toe boots. Glaring.
Possibly upset.
That just flunked bronze sensation.
A sinking feeling.

He tried to fix her
But she broke him too