everything is gray
i know how that sounds. played out and pretentious
some might even say edgy or something along those lines
and you wouldnt be wrong at least not entirely
to me gray means BLAND
gray means DEPRESSING and SOLEMN
gray means ME

NOTHING TRULY MATTERS
WE ASSIGN VALUE TO SO MUCH OF THE LITTLE THINGS AROUND US
I LISTEN TO MUSIC BUT IT GOES IN AND OUT
"what do you do when everything sounds the same ?"
"i feel like ****"
"maybe this new album will help"
"i think ive broken this laptop from pressing refresh so many times"

Refresh you
Refresh everything
Refresh it in stages slowly but surely
Refresh it

HOW CAN I REFRESH MYSELF
HOW CAN I CHANGE
HOW CAN I GO BACK
"you cant"
I TELL MYSELF
"youre stuck here theres nowhere to go"
AND THE MORE I THINK THE MORE I REALIZE
I KNOW THATS NOT ENTIRELY TRUE
BUT FOR NOW I SIT AND DWELL HERE
FILLED TO THE ******* BRIM WITH A GRAY MIND-NUMBING INDIFFERENCE

Define the emotion OK interprets.
And when exactly people understood the comings and goings of feelings in general.
How can one understand others.
When an emotional war is being fought on two fronts.
Each bleeding ammo and supplies.
Wasting away.
Just slow enough to have the coroner turn it away.
Nearly dead isn't applicable.
And somehow managed to feel guilty for wasting your death warrant signatures time.
As if the words would change the angle on how others viewed your life.
Only pretending others care enough to pay any mind.
Stiffles the rest of any opposition.
To make sure the dark flames imbued regret correctly..
A magician of sorts.
Only falling on swords for too long leaves little room eventually.
A reverse porcupine that crys blood when forced into moving.
But makes not a sound.
Even this can feel like nothing.
It only takes a little imagination and a dash of humanity.
And when playing god loses its hype.
Will the mob desperse.
Retreat into that in which the torches were burning just moments ago.
Only they don't extinguish.
Just remain awhile for the next hand to lift the taunting relic.
So that repetition can further solidify the obvious.
Shoudnt be long now.
As the oddly familar jester sits to watch.
Death is always a spectacle.
Whispered so softly it was hard to decide if it happened at all.
But it matters little.
For silence is all that follows.
Indifference is a disease.
Stricken with such paralyzing apathy.
That A.D.D. becomes a standard.
Take two before human interaction.
Call in the morning if the guilt remains.
Only remembering to forget can get so.... Confusing.

Each day is
as a procession of
redundant clopping
on the ground
rhythmic sounds
that anesthetize,
mesmerize

have we become blinkered
along this trail
through life

like a steed in harness
undistracted by
glimpses of
clouds of hate
along the horizons
or seething storms
blowing in from the seas

I'm dry right now,
no tears are left
but you still make me fall
and you still tighten up my chest.
It feels un-natural;
how I've fallen but feel
nothing yet.
My bones ache for your embrace,
but you're a broken skeleton,
you cannot hold me,
you cannot hold a commitment
or even a conversation.
I can't remember the last time
I heard you speak.
The last time might've been
the first time,
I don't know what
there is to miss.
I'll turn a blind eye when
gasoline tempts me,
my carelessness will be my bliss.
You're wrapped in indifference
and you will not unfold for me
because you couldn't care less,
indifferent to a lifetime of
armless hugs;
the walls of your skull
have never memorized
my first heartbeat
because no one ever taught you how to try,
and I don't want your presence
to be my neighbour,
because your love
feels like forced labour.

- Crimsyy

A/N: Thankyou so much for reading! What are your thoughts on this one?

You gauge my feverish eyes,
Sick-to-death,
And you hide the medicine
And you serve the ****


A million hours
A million jokes
A million laughs-
All for naught

Over the chatter of rain,
her vegetable shouts
are hardly heard by him.

The corner where the roof leaks
and corruption draws a perfect circle,
he finds his anorexic love
neatly packed in polyethene bags.

The window is missing a shattered pane
lost sometime last year,
he gathers the curtain into a ball to repel the storm
but rips the silk to shreds.

He’s gone in the stillness between the flash and the roar
that threaten to overwhelm her once more,
she closes her eyes and the door.