A shadow drapes itself across my naked body,
Weightless.. yet, heavy.
The shilouetted form cuts itself a share of my light.
Leaving behind a darkness.

Empty space.

Peering eyes, unseen.
I wish this were a dream.

Touch me
Burn me
Hurt me
Break me
Ache me
Caress me
Kiss me
Cuddle me
Feel me
Hit me
Rub me
Taste me
***** me
...**** me

I am yours,
Or so it seems.
I give my all,
My everything.
Every night,
You continue to take.
My silent screams,
"I'll break! I'll break!"
But still you chase,
Still you win.
And once again,
I’ll give in.
I give my all,
My everything.
Because I am yours,
Or so it seems.

Come in
Slide behind
Start our rythm
Get on your grind
Forget my feelings
I'm losing my mind
Don't need real life
To you I'm blind
Can feel every ache
Wish I could rewind
Know I'll always be hurt
To you I am confined
Just waiting for the day
To be reassigned

is this what they call fate
and can it ever change
is that what they all say
the opinions stay the same
that bar just keeps on raising
and i'm shriveling up like raisins
been like that since the beginning
but by the end i hope i'm grinning
cause birds gotta leave their nests right
so i'm gonna live my best life
or drop like a deer in headlights
paralyzed in my dreams and nightlights

This generation knows only darkness
and sleeps on its back

the sleeper windmills violence in upon
it’s own sensory plate
                                       (the turbulence of
                                        fit-fusion
           ­                             and shapeless
                                        mood based dreams)

                
protest whine

offence

a life less of assurance
awaiting instruction

bore
froth
tend
endurance

Days are no fun
played out underground

A Mole baring task-force
A clunder

Muscle beings
reading the darkness

              

Tales held of the higher plane
an existence firm upon the roof terrain

Once a thriving insistence
ocular culture and unpushed air

This is what came to the generation
of post surface availability

              

The Moles are quaked
they raise in hunch
reach out for their boots and tools
begin the awake shift

i enjoy my sleep’s nightmares.
i find them lovely
for they are the closest i come
to feeling like i am about to die.

disappointment reeks when i awake.

I do not know how to not spiral. I don't know how to catch myself when I fall. I don't know how to put up my hands and make the darkness turn to light. I don't know how to sleep when tonight won't strike 12. I can wait, but then I sit. Waiting for the moon to tell me that it will be the last thing I see and it will be beautiful. But what if I cant bring myself to believe it? What if 12 never comes? What if it never leaves? What if Im stuck there? What if theres just always another 12 to wait for in the inevitable tomorrow? What if I dont make it there?