I hear the feet steps rush past me
It's a daily occurrence but I'm tired
Of given attention to those that hear me
But can never see me as I am
Stuck in reverse where I look to the past
Beging to be looked passed
Screaming banging on this wall of glass
To be set free from my unrequited sanctuary
It's my own fault I quarantined myself
Was it for self preservation
or simply outta fear
to get near
what I can't understand
Or preservation from all this anguish
The past refuses to release me from
I don't mean to be who I am
Do you not understand me?!?
Or did I never give you that opportunity
All I won't is unity
To hold your hand in mine
To be given love so divine
But how can I ask for that
When I'm stuck behind my house of glass
Waiting to be shattered
Yet I have no stones to throw for that matter
Please just try let me
be seen through to my core
But I do want to show you so much more
Push pass my past
I'm my own worst enemy
I can't deny that fact the mirror mocks me
My reflection distorted
A faceless figure of who I believe is me
Screaming....screaming....stop screaming
My ears are bleeding
I don't mean to be who I am
Please believe me
I never wanted to hurt you
I know my silence is deafening
But it's my only mask I have
Tragic as it is I'm my own nightmare
Trapped hiding behind my wall of glass
That only reflects the things I can't get past
Do you understand?!?
I don't mean to be who I am
I scream again
It's useless I been like this for years
I say through my eyes pooling with tears
Drowning in my own demise
Why can't I get past this disguise
I never wonted to be alone
By this self inflicted fate
Because I push anyone that might
Break my glass
My hellish sanctuary
That protects me?!?
from what.....
Something i no longer desire
See me look pass my distorted image
If I let you......
I will let you
Do you understand?!
Just please hold my hand
An promise me this
That I truly won't die alone
Cuz all I require is unity
Someone to understand
Can you Understand?!?




                      PLEASE......

i find the crossroads
i have a tendency to
walk into
during times like these

it’s empty here
except for the invading gusts
of mannerless winds
that don’t say “excuse me”
or “please”
as they pass me

i await for a vehicle
my preference would be
an expensive one
like a really nice rolce royce
to make this quick
painless but pricey

i can feel weight on my chest
about such a lightness in my life
i have people
but there’s this recurring
lack of soul
that makes me feel
ancient and aimless
like lost history
that everyone is familiar with
but no one truly knows
anything of

i feel like the homeless men
i pass by on 137th street
they go by unseen
might as well be six feet deep
in a cemetery

i observe my helpless will
crave for the ability to slow
my mothers inevitable aging
as it shuffles through files
and memory after memory
in search of some hidden
ancient
wisdom to stop time

my dwindling creations
collect dust
in a digital shelf
while i deal with the rust
i’ve allowed to form
in my bank accounts
credit score
and stomach

there’s so much maintenance
towards the inflammation
in my life
that there’s no more antibodies
for anything else
so much struggle to hold
this boulder up over
my neck
which makes me strong
but this constant sweat
leave no more water
for tears

i don’t crave opportunity
i don’t need a friend
i love my lover and my mother
but they ain’t meets to an end
of the never ending fear
of simply not being enough

i crave release from my own responsibilities
i find this tug of war between
sacrificing the self
to overcome it
in order for the greater goods to be
fulfilled
as well as this death of my ego
while
making sure my soul
is still grounded
to be *******
exhausting

i crave a pasture

allowing me to float over the singular blades of grass
allowing me to become
weightless
in the face of all this
pressure

i remember being a boy
and in my island the hills
and mountains and beachfronts
have their own voices

i remember distinctly climbing highly
or swimming far out
or exploration between the tree lines
to be a form of soothing
not therapy
but rather warm rejuvenation

where i wouldn’t think about
my finances and debts
or my relationships and ties to
characters i love
the ones i tolerate
and the ones i’m trying to love
i wouldn’t think about
stability or a consistent routine and schedule

i’m all grown up now
and my creativity compared to
the vast
and endless universes
i’d hide in
as a boy
are a forest fire
compared to my candle
at twenty three years old

i lay here silent
in the middle of this crossroads
waiting for that kid
to come hold my hand and teach me something
because he had the right answers
or at least better answers
he cared about the right things
he genuinely saw
the divinity
in all
and now i’m old enough
to struggle finding the silver lining
in anything

i remember being so creative
that life was almost missing suffering

where the lack of it wasn’t even anywhere near my awareness
and i wasn’t anywhere near as brave
or strong
or wise

it’s almost like the more i know
the older i get
the more i go through
and the more bills i pay
the less of a human being
i become

where the
****
is this **** car
already

hurry up

-melancholicreator

Drowning,
but my feet,
still brush,
the ground.
I’m baffled,
while I gasp,
for air,
I forgot,
how to,
swim.
What happened?
I’m losing,
a battle,
I didn’t realize,
I was in.
Drowning,
but my hair,
isn’t even,
wet.