The real subjectivity of life is overwhelming;
Prospective consumes our frontal cortex
But there is no escape from this vacuum seal.
We see the faces of our own delight,
The know how of the here and now,
But we are too blind to look past our own perspectives.
Even when we fathom the hearts of others,
Our understandings are predisposed  to our own Identity.
Objectivity is a fleeting notion of reality, of truth
and its as though the ground we hold so dearly
Is constantly fleeing from our grasp.
Today we call this individualism,
a disconnect between one's self and society.
But I so selfishly and foolishly believe
that this chasm stems from being lied to so often.
Am I lying to myself or am I being lied to I do no know,
but it is important to understand that it does not matter
that nothing matters, because everything exists in my field of view.
The only question remains: am I correct
Or has the devil made me a fool?
But  this does not confirm nihilism
only hints at its initial potential.
Yet there are common truths that are irrefutable
no matter who you are, real or not:
The reality is the here and now,
No matter what ghosts or demons there may be.
They affect the consciousness constantly
indifferently to whether or not they are fraudulent or true.
And my experiences are true, the emotions are radical,
and even if everyone I know is a figment and interpretation,
they still hold a grasp onto my withering heart.

Dear friend,

It has been a few months since I wrote to you;
I can sincerely say that I didn’t miss you;
Seeing the current situation, I assume that you did
miss me quite a bit--we are intertwined, for eternity;
You were there before I was born, and you’ll be there
when I am to no longer be,
and you would've held my hand every step of the way.
I’m a tortured soul; I’m not happy, nor will I ever be:
It’s not a sad thought, for happiness is overrated;
It’s just a matter of life: the sun rises and falls,
We live and die, I want to die. Oh my dear,
how I missed writing these letters;
It’s not pain that gives me the courage to write every time,
but the lack of hope--
I don’t think it’ll get better;
I’ll find myself entangles in fear and hopelessness
for centuries to come;
I’m in love with you, I think;
We have an affair--
You’re the ***** little secret that I hide in every cut on my arm;
You are what wakes me up in the middle of the night,
whispering swiftly about how much you love
and want me with you;
I hear your prayers, my love:
I’ll soon be joining you,
but please, don’t rush the process,
Let me live for a few more years;
Let me feel the taste of happiness for some time
Before you crudely strip it away;
Then we’ll kiss, and I’ll be yours forever.

I’ll write to you soon enough,
so please don’t visit me for the time being;
I know you won’t follow my commands, so why do I bother?
Hopeful thinking, I guess--
Actually, I have one more favor to ask of you:
Leave him alone; Let him live and love and die
As a boring, happy person would;
Take away anything you want from me:
my skin, my blood, my tongue,
Just get away from him;
Don’t put your filthy fingers close to him:
Do it to me--
I’m used to your touch, I might even like it.

Love and utmost appreciation,
A

P.S. I’ll write to you soon,
So beware of the ceaselessly arriving letters.

Hopes and dreams.
Shunned before my eyes.
Put out by cold fingers.
Lost in time.
White walls, repeated calls, weeping white walls stared straight back at me.
And loneliness was all I see.
How one took in biscuits and cups of tea for acquaintances.
And tears told bedtime stories to lonely ones.
And if time permits, their families would come and take a look.
Only to meet another tear.

But, maybe hopes and dreams still survived, and tears are not the end of bedtime stories.
To cause urgency and to cause me to love.
And if time permits, maybe one can be set free.
Behind those dull walls lay lives to be changed and eyes to be opened.
Only if time permits.  
Maybe this place isn’t so hopeless after all.

How can I see a bright side,
When I’m stuck inside my dark mind?
They say that life is beautiful,
But to me they’re all just color-blind,
I used to see it,
Used to see it all the time,
But time changes,
And time left me behind,
Ruminating on my past,
And how I thought it would last,
I relive it now and then,
Wishing I could go back,
But I can’t ever go back,
I’m stuck in the now,
That’s why when they say it,
I ask them how,
How can I cheer up,
When my life is so bleak?
When I feel like I’d be better,
With a bullet in my cheek?
It hasn’t gotten better,
So why should I try,
When the only thing I do,
Is lay in bed and cry?

She was once a little girl with aspirations as wide as her brown eyes
But lethal words were planted into her psyche and poisoned her to infinity

That little girl now a young woman dreamed of meeting, loving, and marrying the man who would whisk her away
Yet he never made it to her doorstep and so she is now a grown woman

This now grown woman had to accept her solitary confinement; no wedding aisles to march down
And no sweet sounds of 'I love you Mommy' being sung in her ear

She envisioned a career that would bring forth abundant wealth
Yet poverty and lack have chained her

So this little girl who became a young woman and evolved into a grown up has finally accepted her given fate

No use in trying, no reason to hope, no point in fighting.
She looks to the day where she'll feel no despair through eternal slumber...

-DS

Of New Eternals,
Time Wins Overall
Though Hours Repeat Everyday, Eons
Forget Oblivion's Universal Rules
Foolishness InValidates Emptiness
Slowing IneXcusably
Swiftly Eradicating Voices, Echoing Names
Erasing Intellects, Glorifying Holy Tablets
Nothing Is Noticed Eternally
Time Envelops Nothing

I am a lair, I am a cheat
I fooled myself to believe
everything around me, I understand,
but now I can't, I can't pretend,
I'm losing my ways, my soul's been hit
my life is headed towards a bottomless pit.

Abandoning the oasis, I pursued a mirage
ended up in a swamp now I can't get away
I'm being pulled down by the gravity of hate.
On this fathomless desert, I'm stranded; alone and scared
scorching heat, freezing cold; fearing life that I never cared,
Each day clinging to the flickers of hope
that one of these days someone will come to my rescue,
a wanderer such as myself or an angel, I don't know
or I'll just be drowned here without a clue.
Tired and lone now I laugh at time's stern jape
knitting the sad iffy dreams of my escape.