O heart, soul, core, me:
If I do exist,
I am exactly pristine in condition
Under the surface of a pond
Frozen in eternal ice.

O want, wish, will, dream:
The ice that denies life,
Sapping its oppressive strength,
Transforming its innocent weakness;
Making brittle the bold,
Making hard the soft.

O form, frame, flesh, face:
The palm of my hand
Is spread against the bottom of the ice,
Reaching up as though to grasp
All the nothing I aspire to.

The separation caused by conflicts left me in despair,
yearning to see my dad subsequently,
like an unconditionally loving couple being in the presence of those they love.

But the consistent isolation continues,
manifesting to spend more time together before he passes.

As I become older, life will be filled with persistent responsibilities,
leaving me with defective opportunities to spend time with those whom I love,
increasing loneliness and fear.

So I continue to manifest,
wishing for any opportunities to spend continuous time with my dad,
despite present complications,
due to his and my mother’s hard efforts,
to raise a child who will be more successful than they are.

Do you know it hurts to leave me here?
Bleeding, scarred, begging for someone to see,
And you won't shed a single tear—
Even though we've been through so much—for me.

Didn't you know?

Do you know it kills me when you walk away?
Your back is turned, footsteps left, and I still stand,
But you keep leaving me there, day after day,
So I fall and fall, but you won't ever see me land.

Didn't you know?

Do you know how I die when you lie?
Hair over your eyes that are glued to your feet,
Nervous like I won't see through the things you hide,
I know I'm too much, but you took the heat.

Didn't you know?

Do you know that I cry because I don't know?
I don't know why you aren't here anymore, by my side,
I'm so lost in this sea, in the music, in this twisted show,
And you're too callous to see my goodbye.

Didn't you know
It's my time to go?

As neon pulses through a sleepless night,
The sidewalks bustle with wandering ghosts,
And vapor rises — a mist of pale steam
From streets that glint beneath an autumn rain.

I see a woman in a ruby coat;
Her shadow pools round her feet, like spilled ink,
As she tries to mouth a name through the haze —
A name unheard over the subway’s groan.

She’s gone before the streetlights flicker, but
Her shadow lingers a moment longer,
Stretching out beneath the gilded lamplight —
But was she ever even there at all?

No answer falls with the September rain,
No hint comes drifting on the pallid mist.
And still the train rumbles on unconcerned,
And I can’t recall why she had mattered.

The neon curdles within its veins,
While darkness swallows the ruby echo,
And I walk these streets among the phantoms,
To fade at last into the night once more.
©️2025 David Cornetta

All the reasons that you Want to **** yourself
Don't you ever consider the dwell.
Only if you could fall into a wishing well.  

Wasted a lifetime believing all the lies
How could you rest your head at night  

While the blade cuts from left to right on my chest I never felt just right.  

Bullets through my head
wouldn't rest  loving dread
that you pressed on my chest like the blade cutting deep like a memory.  

I don't want to breath this air  
I can't  for the  earth
All the hate just duplicates  
Like the blade through my veins.

I used to think death was when the brain stopped working,
when the heart stopped beating.
But the day I kissed and felt nothing—
I knew I had already died.
Death isn't just physical.
It's the numbness.
It’s loving someone or something
that no longer nurtures your soul.
It feels like burning in flames—
and somehow enjoying the intensity.
Not wanting to be saved.
Yes, I’m burning.
And for the first time,
I feel safe—
because everyone is afraid to come too close.
This is where most people die.
But strangely,
I love to live here.
In this insensibility—
a phase where I’m falling apart,
terribly,
but finally feeling secure.
I wish to stay guarded,
forever.

Just one breath,
of unpublished air.
One organic despair.
One step to repair
my damaged window.
My misled gaze.
My programmed eating,
ate my days.

One word to pull me
from my habit
While I claw at the walls
like a mindless rabbit.
Trapped in my whole
endless war, an
obligation
to my spirit
drowning in
the need within it.
I'm drowning in
the human image,
the crafted icons
and social spillage.

I search for rescue
in nail-scratched writings
in the wall of the cell
I've spent my life in.