Draining life to fill it with
watered-down pain, can he feel now? If my teeth make
an appearance, you'll be given your fix of my 'happiness,'
injected through your cranium. I wish I could navigate my
naive wishes, as I'm sinking in my pillows, and the light on
the ceiling is winking at me as I'm patched up, written in 'unhappy'
My uncanny doubts are fancying a feathery gift of sleep,
unlike this fascination with
falling feet to my death of dreams-

My visuals are out to get me,
Drive in front and claim the safety.
Pull a map and divise a route,
To keep me from my- too loud. too loud.
You take the wheel,
I'll fake a path.
The road divides us
From future and past.
I wanna drive back,
until then i will roam.
the seats of tanned memories,
remind me of home-

I clash into my fabric,
Like it's the waters of a bath.
Behold the ripples from my fingers,
Before I walked upon their path.
Pills are skipping stones,
That land at unsteady feet.
I'm falling, or I'm drowning,
Sleeping with torture underneath.
With Carnations at the bedside,
The yellow won't change my hue.
For their inexplicit meanings,
Are wrapped in dripping blue.
And the taps rung through my head,
Were the bath; now forming puddles.
You asked how I had left,
But you didn't notice the bubbles
---------------------------------------------------

His fingertips are doused in gasoline,
setting fire to everything he sees.
Each object he touches,
all the memories collected,
ash away and fall to crimes.
He's got eternal flames inside him,
and yet his eyes remain dimmed and submissive.
He's fragile and fractured,
and as his last heart string crackled,
you could see the hope unlit.
Fires and unsettling demons
are all he even seems to remember.
He might try and set his body ablaze,
to calmly dry off that crying pain,
sadly sticks and stones withhold his embers.
He won't die, but he can't learn,
the anguish manipulated to feed a burn.
His life was hanging in a balance of dry anger,
rather the deployment of washing hurt again,
he thought would dehydrate its annual return-

If I could mount that rock to my forehead,
the demons I'm fighting would finally go.
I know the risks of one last blow.
Visibility is prevented from me, by me, divided.
I choose sadness because it was all i ever felt.
This plateau of emotion will eventually
**** me-

I stand alone with my shadow,
Developing larger on the floor.
Voices are heightened in these loosened hours,
I can feel my failures outside my door.
For is it fair to live in fear,
Consistently dreading numbed durations?
I still sense the pain of things that won't adhere,
And uneasy twinges of deserted sensations.
My apathy is back and it has worsened,
My eyes have widened because I know what comes next.
The flood of my trauma ends lack of emotion,
drowning me, sending me straight to my death-

He was the ocean; handsome, but yet, Impulsively damaged. He had a sandy heart to correspond his sandy eyes, the moon dismantled that omitted pride he carried at a dead weight; shoveling and reshaping it, so people would see a sandcastle statue assembled in strength. But his washed-up soul and unannounced insecurities were aware of its genuine purpose,
this beach alongside his pupils;
quicksand, he'll sink so slowly in.  Waves in his hair like ripples on his cheeks, skipping stones land at his defeat, he left notes in bottles for you, sank multiple ships for you, because he hasn't the heart to say he's desiccating with the arrival of the stars.. Retracting scars are not too far from gasps for air,  foaming words of crisis by writing in the sand, signaling a light as the last one in him died. You wouldn't understand, the calm before the storm, as valve after valve puncture him. So intoxicating as it drains him, and from within, he's drying out. Sunburns stain him, a smile restrains him,
in an inescapable drought--

He watched the moon,
As it became immune
To his galaxy eyes.
Silver liquid flowing,
The night's come to a closing,
As he mixed his 'sky dye.'
At least, that's what the stars said,
As each one rubbed his head
Goodnight.
Colored images glowing,
His eyelids began lowering,
As he, again, was forced to fight-

His cement touch grasped my lungs,
cracking down on the system we had made.
My mind is not quiet until it is numb,
compacting a road for old memories' sake.
This ground takes place in the back of my head,
the gravel makes bumps I always displace.
No one will come; calling 'No Road Ahead'
I am lost in this part for most of my days.
The colder it is, the more likely I'll freeze,
keep driving this way to try and find home.
Frozen in time, I don't know the ease,
between what is 'home' and a house no one knows.
I isolated my heart from the world because nobody cares,
it is worthless to think of myself with emotion.
I'd rather continue just driving this way,
and force myself to keep going through the motions-