My thoughts are dazed…
Claustrophobic and hazed.
I’m exhausted and unamazed,
Fatigueness of some kind, low from the natural high.
Thoughts in my mind are delusive and unkind.
Dizzy and feeling quite fizzy
Not in the mood for studying, excitement, and fun.
Sitting by my lonesome self just writing what I can process.
Head feels heavy, got me feeling a bit queasy
Uneasy
Zoned out and lost in my thoughts
Sun is out and the wind is harsh…
It’s skin prickling and dissatisfying.
My exhaustion is sickening.
Absolute death and no reason
No fret
But anguished in my enclosed mind
But no threat…

System overkill
Discredit and disregard
Explain but disagree and make it hard
Exhalation and permutation
Loss of existence and clouded perception

Obsessive minds and sniffed up lines
Excessive amounts and numbers you cannot even count.
Broken, ripped, torn, and outwardly worn.
A lost ghoul, selfish, and for more you mourn.
Poor and dead, not yourself, completely blacked out and unconscious in bed.

Overdosed on the ******’ pills, suicide attempts never work…
Let the meds pour…
Gone, so gone…
Just let the meds pour...

In an unguarded moment

I saw what it is, to not see myself.

The fogged up mirror

didn’t let my reflection reach me.

And what reached me was

just a picture colored out of lines.

The more I looked at my obscured face,

the more I was convinced

that the faces was not mine.

The more I was convinced of the face being a stranger’s,

more easier it was for me to love and accept it.

If I could see myself as someone else

how easier it would be to live my life.

Not knowing what I know about myself,

not knowing what I think.

To  be what I am and what I am not at the same time.

How easier it would be , if this is

what I saw in mirror everyday.

How beautiful can be not knowing, not seeing.

Only smudged shades of colors.

A face not mine.

Between the divide
You just can't get agreement
In this time and age

Your active fingers
stringing sentiments to me
spoken through text speak,
yet you can't text those same lines
from your lips to my close ear.

As a sensible,
As a logical,
And a well informed fellow
I asked that when you meet the Devil
Where do you draw the line?

Quick wit, to leave me assured
You affirmed, my friend, I'll never cross this line

Persistent and fiendish, as Devils are
He barreled through the line, with evil in his eye

Thankful to have a friend, I asked, is this enough?
Uneasiness overcame me when you said it was okay.

Quick wit, to leave me assured
You affirmed, my friend, I'll never cross this line

But he truly was hell, this ****** Devil
Carelessly he pushed right through, past the line again.

Worried, I asked, well surely we're in danger?
Of course not, he replied, siding with Devil and his plan

Quick wit, to leave me assured
You affirmed, my friend, I'll never cross this line

With no limit, his forked tongue just laughed
Storming through again, no one in his way

Terrified, I pleaded, this nonsense had to stop
My friend, now foe, said this is the only way

How foolish I must be to,
To ever believe a line that couldn't be crossed.
And to think you'd stand by me.

"Read between the lines," they say.

And I watched you stand there; a living, breathing
existence of lines.

You walked right up to me. Lines are moving dots.
Your being is a point in motion.

I looked at your face to see the bold lines
under your eyes and above your brows—the ones
that made me think of your strength and masculinity.
They are all an aspiring bravado exuded on your face
with your years of experience and hard work.

I love the curved lines of your eyes and lips too
as you smiled at me as I called your name.

Sometimes, I owe my success of finding you in crowds
to your tall height and I freeze whenever I do:
Vertical lines can stop eye movement.

Your dancing also catches my attention.
Did you know every part of your body consists of
dynamic and action-oriented lines?

You.
An important line in my life.
Highly directional, and I now know
where to go to
when I draw or write
the edges of my love.

|   LINES   |   ENDING II   |

Lines act as borders
between ideas and concepts.

They also tell me
to "never cross the line."

It goes the same for my mind
which draws your existence
in front of me, in Picasso style:
the single, drunk and confused
line.

Or those psychic lines that your eyes
connect to mine. I feel them there,
when you're not really looking at me
in person.

Lines allow you to quickly visualize
an object, or someone, with a minimum
of time, space and material.
But all I wanted was to feel
your hand in mine forever.

And all the lines I've ever written
about you and for you
will queue up to lines
of waiting, unrequited feelings.

It was just another night people slept in beds together and some slept alone .
Others shared beds wishing only to roll over to find another .

I never slept at night so my wants never truly seemed to matter.
Great men lose everything and know misery like some mistress kept across town.

I never cared for love .
It was something that seemed only to **** you while giving you just enough to grasp sanity .

A head above water is still half towards a murky grave .
We will all know temptations they appear welcome as a mirage on the vast empty plane .

You can read all you will and never fully grasp the truths in between.
I have chased the night far to long.

Maybe tonight I will simply sleep
And do so ever so pleased to be alone .

I walked in my mind and still I wore the features
upon my face standing in this lingering palce
******* the life out of  my life.

As if time was non linear in this place. Could it
have only been momentarily swaying like the
crest of a wave I swear its going backward now.

I had to climb out of my thoughts as my feet had
created a gorge of boredom and I swear in that
time unknown drooling down my face.

Greeting reality I feel the wetness and my eyes now
in focus of my surroundings. I quickly wipe my
face,  this line is an eternity that moves no where.

I walk out as in slow motion ascended to normal
time I hear "Checkout 3 now open, I would have been
the next in place... I walk onwards boredom now rage.