This is the bottom.
For months, I have felt this hollow tunnel inside of me. It has been the only constant for a while. Like a wind tunnel on fire.  

Steadily I have felt worse in ways I never imagined. Each morning has been harder to get out of bed; I genuinely can't remember a day that didn't start with me bent over the toilet. Yet I stand, shakily. Sometimes covered in ***** - and I clean myself up.
I get in my car. And I drive to work.

I am empty inside. I have no story. I have no melody.
I am untitled.

Every morning at six-thirty I sit
at that table by the window and drink
my coffee. No, I’m retired. As you see,
I can see that corner, and most days the kids
come there to wait for the bus to take them to
the high school. Two boys and a girl, usually.
No, I don’t know them or their names, but I’d
recognize them. So, they stand there talking
and smoking -- whether cigarettes or something
else, I don’t know, but sometimes they shared it.
And I’m thinking the boys shared the girl too,
because one day one’s kissing her, the next day
he doesn’t show and she’s kissing the other.
That was yesterday. Then, today, the first boy
walks up and bang! bang! -- he shoots them both,
the girl and the boy, point blank in the head, like
Pacino in Scarface. Yes, I’ll testify.
But please catch the little ******* before
he finds out I’m a witness and pops me too.

It doesn't care
If I tried to draw circles
Planning hard about the whole thing flare
I don't still care about the surroundings
No effort will I give, everything from today
I'll spare, for myself to myself
High ego, narcissism but no despair

Words are low, act is fact
Sadness and happiness were hoaxes
I put the points, I lead no follow
I make sorrows no sorrow
I hug the solitary selfiness,
they hug the lonely shallows
May be sometimes warmth pillows
I'm an aware animal,
between the naiv puppets
A gap between cheetahs and rabbits
I'm a god, they are barely humans..

Can't you see,
the greatness shining out of me
Can't you see,
how can I bear the darkness to the rise
even the night couldn't compete

You who escaped from the grip of the darkness
In an atmosphere of openness,
sadness and loneliness
In freedom and joy
In desired solitude
and the psychological status required,
The amateur dreams,
the footsteps of the sinners
And the sweetness of the sin
Which clearly disbelieve the interpretations,
The Meaning and Location
and repeat the hymns
to the world of matter
And sweet touches,
wild instinct and sharp kisses
Serious fantasies
Habituation and Normalisation
Migration and Justification
And then back to no return
Reviewing and thinking
And return..
And back from the bitter situation
                  
Fugitive you won again
With a heart you put in the left hand
After losing your right hand
Because of your much cunning,
fleeing and hate
or rather..
From a lot of fear and abuse
From the abundance of guilt and procrastination
Dumbness, selfishness, and sluggishness

You are a winner despite your loss
You are a survivor despite your misfortune
You rise and go to your abode
To the sight of your eye..
Win your left and fist
And make your past less miserable
Make it your burner and ember
and burn the leaves
To write with on white papers
words and phrases
You announce the new situation
seek the newborn heart
Only a tender heart,
A strong and stubborn heart..

Between thorns and longing
The clouds fall from the clouds of sorrow.
So the memories are broken with them.
The silence that cut off my tongue.
And I was forced to shut up.
In the world of noise and bright lights
That's formed in the sad mind.
The dark, the painful sadness.
And the darkness and the mean longing
Which drives me to hate,
and miserable moods.
And the excessive selfishness,
and its inferiority.

Those passions that stab me,
in the mind before the heart.
And my prisoner's body is strained,
between the numerator and the arrest.
My pulse warns me,
and my flashes are bouncing.
And instead of it, my passion is inflamed.
Every time you pass through,
the thorns of abandonment.
I blame myself for what,
I didn't have in my hands.
From a sincere, virginal love I gave,
And a cruel, brutal wound I got.
Because of my innocence,
I planted it with my naivety.
And I made up for everything,
that wasn't in my transplant.

Now I'm writing in my cold room.
In its narrow, distant corner.
That narrows my breath every time I shed.
Every breath I take out,
and every tear I erase my memory with
Or cover it with another one.
And lie on my back.

On a padded bed and a soft cloth
But my back still hurts from my hard load.
My vertebrae are still exhausted by needing.
And it's with unfortunate compressed
by boredom, screaming and anger.

Why am I tortured?
And she's enjoying with her little choice
Why am I in pain?
Doesn't she have a heart,
or a heart like mine?
Isn't there justice and god?
Or is it chaos and corruption?

I almost realize the bad things in the world.
When I faced what I was hiding behind,
of love, kindness and tenderness
It's like I was in pinky dreams.
And imaginary convictions.
Peace, love and respect..

But the embers in my heart,
have demolished the walls.
And what was ******* is now set free
It intends to ignite and fight,
It seeks disarrangement and revenge.,
But from whom?
But from whom..

I want to give up...
my problems are
way scarier than others,
I am everything, the center,
unfavorable situations
find me like a childhood friend,

Trouble trouble everywhere
No time to live,
If I live for some days
double trouble pursue me
to outlive,

I'm Hamlet, Macbeth, Othello, King Lear
Shakespeare wrote my predicaments
six centuries earlier,
My birth was a tragedy,
I'm armored in 'hamartia', 'anagnorisis'
'peripeteia', and what not
searching my doom to
entertain few who paid to see me,
I have none neither unity of time,
or place or action,

I don't deserve this,
But
What should I do?
I have no means and measures or methods,
to raise my hand and say,
"Sir, this disgusts me, living like this doing
same task same time all day"
Count me absent since today,
I'm going never to come,

What a sick time this is,
everyone is hating everyone,
I hate everyone too,
why shouldn't I?
I'd one demand,
I want to study, but no one had money
to pay, neither family, nor state, or center,
I saw them investing in bricks and stones
I saw them collecting taxes,
But no one came,
I wanted to work no had work to offer.

So I am writing, venting off my anguish,
Okay so if you are here, I call you my confidant,
keep it a secret,
You know I am alone now
But I wasn't before, a girl I love but never
told her my feeling, why????

Yes, she is employed, she earns I do not,
I fear this, I search for work, not that
I need one, I crash on the footpath,
live on the discarded crumbs out
the big restaurant in my city,
I'm not invoking pity in you--
Argumentum ad Misericordiam--
stating just the fact sir,
I believe in "Less is MOre"
and indeed I have less and I am happy
but what troubles me is her,
Ah! it's not that easy, I've heard
they don't take seriously unemployed guys,
Yes, sir, I may be wrong, but I don't want to
take any chance,
Life is not a life sir without her,

You can judge this in the tone
after I started tak]lking about her.
I love her dearly,
But who doesn't sir?
when they are young,

'Life is but a dream,' I question the value of it;
at the edge of life, the edge of time, the edge of our reality;
at the edge of this cliff, we edge ourselves to a falling death.
But what if the fall to our death is like a dream—falling into
a hole, gaining speed close to it's undersurface? We'd wake
up before we hit the ground.

But would I wake up in a cold sweat; or in tears, of longing to
find what lies in the somber of a deep hole? Maybe my soul?
Haha; it's outline must of been shaped by the mind's many dreams,
my child. For what good was it; in the spirit ties of it being lost in the world?  A world at times that doesn't feel as real:
but just a life of a dream.

So by this edge, clutched by the winds of background; hold your
breath before you and I jump. Time may, or may not slow in the
plunge to the valley's undersurface. Still perhaps, this all could be
a dream, and we'll both wake up before we hit the bottom.

Surely it must be, because I don't know a reality to be as brave
to commit such an act. Why pinch yourself, when you've been
pinched by pillars of salt in life—sourness and bitterness?

Oh my inner child, life is but a dream:
and soon we'll both wake up from it.

Someone who means a great deal to me once said that you can’t find love. You can’t go searching for it, it finds you. It finds you out of nowhere and once it’s there you can’t ignore it. I thought that was a cute way of putting things and continued on with life, waiting for love to find me. But then I got impatient and tried to find it on my own, but it never happened. I was terrified of relationships for some unknown reason or past trauma, and I never found it. Until it found me.
It steamrolled me completely out of nowhere and I didn’t see it coming. It was the worst and best thing that ever happened to me because it was beautiful to feel so deeply for someone and not feel any fear to let myself fall. For my best friend, someone I could spend hours talking to.
Only you didn’t feel it too. Apparently you can ignore it, or maybe fate is sick and twisted and Cupid only hit me.
So I love you. I love you and I can’t stop and it absolutely ***** because you don’t feel the same way for me. I know even if you did we’d never work out and yet if you sat me down and tried to convince me of all the reasons we would always be wrong for each other and never right, I wouldn’t be able to stop.
Trust me, I wish I could. I wish I hated you instead, or just didn’t care at all.
But I can’t stop. You could break my heart ten times over and I wouldn’t be able to stop. I don’t understand why but it’s just a fact.
I’ll always wonder why I’m not good enough or if maybe you’ll ever change your mind.
Maybe one day I’ll stop, finally get over it, but for now I’m stuck here never being able to get over you. I can’t move on, I can’t stop hurting, I can’t stop loving you. I don’t know that I’ll ever feel this way about someone again, or if I manage to get over you if I even want to, because I don’t ever want to be crushed like this again.
Because I love you. And you don’t love me.

It leaves its handprints on all that I see,
and tarnishes all I touch with poison
Feeds depression like a maggot, to deepen
this cursed mire that is my place to be
It snatches my thoughts away from all glee,
and I wish I would vanish, be hidden
And alone long for a secret Eden,
for a decade it has tormented me

It told me: ”You will never have a hand
to hold, nor starry eyes to madly love
Alone you'll stay, you're too broken, cautious
Your spirit forever burns with my brand,
there will be no olive branch, no sweet dove”
Thus spoke the cold, dead void called Loneliness