Who knew how much dust collects when the room hasn't been occupied since the town lost comfort?
Like going down a nostalgic street and finding not one mom and pop shop survived the wreckage
Like finding the remnants of your childhood through damaged wood holding familiar sunsets
I wish I could tell you why I came back, and I wish it meant things got better, or even clearer
I guess the truth on why I haven’t found any new answers, is I stopped asking old questions  
And for the time being, I got hold on how much weight drinking can crush your bones
And every sip is another joint waiting to crumble; every sip is another mistake to leave me humbled
I really wish I could fully grasp the reason I approached writing the way I used to
Maybe that person had a better idea on what to do.

sometimes,
The time it takes
to curate a reality
Where
The eyes of a hostile reflection
Don't contribute to, but consume-
the moment's prison of littleness...
Is it not possible?
To escape eternity's hour's ceaselessness?
Hope,
is too short;

we perpetuate-
it takes shape.
we preform,
then placate.

grasping at my supple shoulders, applying your veined, snow hands, you haul me from enfolding infirmity

She was an empty girl with worlds on her arms
Swirling, shifting, kaleidoscope dreams

She was a quiet girl with tears in her eyes
Dripping, blossoming, nourishing streams

She was a strong girl with blood on her hands
Slipping, chafing, encouraging pain

She was an important girl with jewels in her crown
Shining, glistening, cavalier fame

In her stream of consciousness
falling, falling, falling, falling

Until all that was left was an empty corpse
white, dry, draining life

My movements were eternally not my own
My distinctions, decisions, discrepancy,
Also not my own.
The creation or establishment of a newborn,
Covertly an awaiting infection of control and scare.
Because only a newborn had nothing to fear of this world or district.

I fear the air, the sun,
I cannot trust the outside,
I belong far from fear.  
How must I walk if it’s controlled?
Do I march or run?
Do I look up at the sky or close my eyes in terror?
Do I engulf the fear like a sharp knife or let it eat me up instead?
Not knowing will do both.

I’m writing here because it’s my own words,
Not a speech or sharing of my gospel.
It’s a sin to my kind,
But I am not like that kind.
Please allow my independence hidden,
I can't stand the scare.