My mother recently took me to another doctor
she said, ‘her condition is becoming outrageous ,
she hasn’t laughed in a year, avoids any talking,
never leaves the house until the night draws in. ’

And I think the sun should rather concern her.
Burning things don’t make good companions.
Bought a ticket for a train, northbound at night,
my eyes hurt from the condolences of daylight.

Went back south in September, I surrendered,
had to promise to be good again and presentable.
Indifferent on life, did I suffer from depression?
It’s not been an illness but a philosophic decision.

One Sunday, it was quiet during breakfast time,  
somebody from town recently took their life.
Rised brows behind the newspaper’s edges,
secretly, I admire the courage and recklessness.

But I act eager and am polite with relatives,
at holiday occasions I behave and give kisses
until one proposes a toast to life being a gift.
I say nothing in exchange, I feel guilty to exist.

It all changed one day, when I found me a lover.
He sins for amusement while I sin to self punish.
I love that he’s mortal, of a perishable texture,
hope to be buried, rot with him in the graveyard.

We agree on senselessness without any pity,
he watches me fail life and thinks it’s poetic.
We can’t hurt since there’s nothing to heal from.
A physical love wich in it’s essence is platonic.

Don't allow yourself to close your eyes;
To sleep or rest, to look away.
You see, you know,
They all lied to you.

Existence;
Immersed in it's ambiguities.
Meaningless suffering,
Life is unjust.

Left behind.
Drowning in real
Refusing to ignore,
It's killing you.

It is all truly there,
It is all that there is.
Onerous to accept it.
You're creating a war with a reality
Who only seeks to destroy.

Nearly lost elation,  
Thoughts transmitted in times of joy,
Hope at times afforded.
Faint memories of it will linger,
Just try to hold on.

-

You think so highly of such a lowlife as yourself,
Or are you it?
Are you it?

the meaning of an apology:
echoes of a thousand I’m Sorry’s;
the silence of deceit, its awful slink;
the humbled hope to atone,
to pay amends where due,
to mend the maimed,
and trust renew.

forgiveness is a sad word:
it bears the scar of a wound;
to forgive is to hope with hurt.
it is to trust in tide to wash ashore;
for in lack of trust and hope,
it is noble to sink with the ship.
it is bolder yet to hop asea,
and let tide be guide.

the parable of the builders:
the wiser built his house on  rock,
the rain came down,
the floods came,
the winds blew,
and beat on that house;
and it did not fall,
for it was founded on a rock

the foolish built his on sand,
the rain came down,
the floods came,
the winds blew,
and beat on that house;
and it fell — and great was its fall.

determination's downfall;
for, is a house still not a house
despite its foundation?
fortune's fortress looms;
our sandcastle holdfasts hampered in comparison,
but home is neither keep nor battlement,
neither moat nor bailey,
neither portcullis nor drawbridge;

home is where you touch the ground,
where you choose to grow...

the rain will retain its hiss;
but the rain is still the rain,
the floods remain the floods,
and the wind is just the wind.

~ Inori

why must i care
for a world so unforgiving
why must i be
when there is no point in living

the world pushes and pulls
with all of its might
never a happy ending
nearing my sight

so as a stand
at an intersection a few
tell me, world
what must i do

why need i
care oh so much
when a world of nothing
has me in its clutch

need i always put myself
in the way of harm
when apathy already
has me in its arms

As the light seeps into the west,
And the Sun slumbers in to a rest,
Weary birds go out of sight,
The night, shy, comes from twilight.

The calm spilling over the pure,
With stars sprinkled on azure,
Come to light the puny lives,
Easy to miss, in the looming abyss.

Yet, Star-lit sky, through its heavenly rains,
Showers peace, on thoughtful plains.
Ecstatic nectar, flows from the moon,
as river of solace, by the hills of reason.

The rain clouds are dragged over by invisible winds
A storm. Raging, strong. Unstoppable
Shivering
Colder than ice, piercing through my body

The rain is wetting my eyes
The storm is controlling my heart

Defeated
Caught
Imprisoned
A world, a body
My cage

Strangers

The clouds my fog
Blind
Blocked
Drenched

The body is nothing but an empty vessel
Rats welcome
Making themselves home
Strangers
Hijacked
Nagging from the inside

Just a puppet
Only some skin and bones

It is a waste
I am
Everything is useless
Failure

This is irreversible pain
The body’s only filling.
Never. Ending.

Changes impossible
The inside is dead

Please help

What will it be like to be dead?
I imagine peace
But not the sort that makes you pretend
I imagine comfort
But not the sort that makes you crave action
I imagine oneness,
But not the kind that makes you feel lost
I imagine silence.
But not the type that makes you crave noise
I imagine stillness
But not the type that makes you restless
I imagine emptiness
But not the type that makes you feel alone
I imagine nothingness
But not the kind that makes you hungry for stuff
I imagine
And then, I do not