uncommon grows normal
routine with procedure
getaways, paradise, heaven
bare, void, blank
air occupies what was
take afoot inside
think comfort, warmth
ignited with flames
books of wisdom
books of happy
books of reflection
raveled with devouring famine
scorching heat searing
the leather casing
the thin sheets
the purpose of it all
all that's left
crumbled cracking at the seams
indistinguisable at corners
words left legible
smack dab middle
with colors reminiscent
pouring white milk
into black coffee
only this time
an odor intoxicating as gasoline
A dream, a crave, a love engraved
A desire, a fire, a vision so dazed
Every thought, so fleeting, only this held tight
Every tear, such failure, for this i fight
Such pain, still settling, that road was rough
Such anger, ****** up, passion is never enough
We may be passionate about something, but sometimes just passion is not enough to reach your goals. You need resources, support and a whole lot of talent. Sad but true.
Why was I made to exist? To merely experience life through sorrowful eyes.
I drown so deep, I question all my feelings and try to make excuses as to why I feel a certain way.
Certain ways I don’t even understand.
If I was made to bring a revolution and change perception, then why should I **** myself just by doing so?
So empty and hollow, the wall has enclosed.
If I was born to be misunderstood, why is it so easy for me to understand and accept everyone else, even those who discredit me.
The voices in my twisted mind. Who are they? Are they real? Is it my intuition? Or is it intuition turned into nerve aching anxiety.
Writhing inside of me, eating every part of my disillusioned sanity.
If I seize to exist to help those who put me down and call me crazy, then why is it worth it?
If I could hang myself right now tight around the neck where I might snap my spine... why would it matter?
I’ve accepted being alone, being lonely is now contentment. Peace.
Drained by others negativity, pulling me down like strings by their problems.
If I was meant to show my true form, why is it that I live in different facades.
Questioning who I am every single ****** day.
I hear people constantly talk about me, in my mind.
Is it intuition? Or mere delusion.
I’m dead. Empty. My purpose in life is to physically die so I can finally go back to where I came from. Other dimensions where I truly belong.
Disentanglement, I lose myself in fear.
Never gonna sleep,
Till I’m beat,
Ten hours a day,
Seven days a week,
I think I’m in deep,
Won’t ask for a day off,
Cause I’ll just *******,
Making more mistakes,
When I’m on day breaks.
So im pretty shot. Been working ten hour shifts seven days a week this past month. Gotta day I’m hating it but hey at least my pay check is bigger than before. But not as big as I want it to be.
Here’s a catch-twenty-two
You’re ****** up when you’re ****** up
****** up when you’re not
5-7-5 is the format I know of, though there could be others. I’ll not pretend to know a great deal.
I live in the absence of presence
proximity filled by emptiness
I look for a god in the machine
but the schematics are held by noncompliant fingers
tightly clutching my rightful deeds
and pointing in the opposite direction.
I’m alive so I feel compelled to live but don’t know how
so when I want to have a night I’ll never forget
I get ****** up
and when I have a night I never want to remember
I get even more ****** up
I think I’m having a good time
but my memory is pretty ****** up.
But something shines through my ****** up memories
a vision of when we first met
you asked me, “What are you up to?”
I misheard you and responded, “Yeah, I’m ****** up too.”
then we talked about this ****** up zoo
and how we could help each other through.
The connection we develop engenders nightmares
I have two kinds of ****** dreams
the ones where I have *** with people I don’t want
bizarre **** like relatives and ghosts
even ghost relatives—and relative ghosts
those dreams can get pretty ****** up
but the dreams where I’m with the people I want
are factored by the power of two
and are exponentially more ****** up.
The dreams become fantasies I can’t reconcile with reality
burying me in insecurity
thinking what keeps me alive is impossible to hold onto like air
I keep wildly grasping in desperate futility
suffocating in deprivation
until eventually I can’t feel anything anymore.
You notice my weakness and attack
you’re a vampire bat
echolocating past relationships you enjoyed more
I tell you you ****** up
and now must slum with a *** instead of number one.
I keep eating up your batshit insanity
contracting your coronavirus
I just want to sleep
I feel like I’m going to die
your fever dreams are sweat submerged stress nightmares
once I start drowning I try to scream
but all that escapes me are the bubbles I live in
they float on the surface, eventually popping.
You keep calling me a clown
so I joke you can juggle my *****
with dismissive sarcasm you respond I should try stand-up
but that’s already what I’m doing
you tell me to jump off a cliff
but I already have
exasperated, you scream I should literally **** myself
but I already write of my own death every night.
You separate from me like a head from a neck
after the noose that tied us together severed our connection
I fell to the ground and realized I was still alive
and started downplaying the bounty on my head
which seems much larger when one sees it on a wanted poster.
I’m not looking for a person
I’m searching for a feeling people are capable of delivering
I don’t care where I find it as long as I do
people often ask me if I’m more attracted to men or women
I find the question somewhat annoying and I’d rather not answer
but if you forced me to choose by putting a gun to my head
that might turn me on even more.
I was sitting on the inside
seeing what was out there
all the while hating it here.
So I thought I'd go far enough
to get what it was
and bring it back home with me
to keep and to love.
Between the two of us
**** what we used to be
let's write our own history
and do these things our way.
(I love how you're the thing that I love to write about
cause I'd be a dummy not to write you down)
God ****** you're awesome
the burdens weigh heavy,
and women cry in the streets,
this is a world broken by many,
one where children don't eat.
the downtrodden are giving up,
men dream of war in their sleep,
the one percent are ******,
and it all weighs on me.
i'm in my feelings tonight
going to a club for the first time
hope i don't die
update; anxiety got the better of me
didn't go and look, i'm still alive
Don’t look at me with his **** in your throat
I don’t have the heart to see the joy in your eyes
While you guzzle down greed's breed seed.
Don’t moan at me with his **** in your ***
I don’t have the heart to see the pain in your eyes
While coal miners ******* into submission.
Don't cry to me when you inevitably ****** him
I don't have the heart to see you regret your life
While you beat, burn, bury, and drown mankind.