do people even go on dates anymore?
is it really a thing people still do?
yeah I'll go hang out with a guy,
but when does hanging out cross over into the date territory?
everyone is all about "Netflix and chilling"
what happened to going out to see a movie?
telling a guy about yourself is possibly the worst part
you feel like you're handing him an enormously long book
they are willingly taking part in reading it
but they start to instantly regret it as they do
often finding themselves getting bored
or growing tired of the content.
now, this isnt the case with all of them,
just most of them.
maybe one day there will be one
that doesn't start the conversation off with
"that *** is lookin' great"
maybe one day there will be one
that doesn't invite me over only at times that are
far too late
maybe one day there will be one
that wants to ask me
on a date.

Trying to fill the days and forcing them to go.
Finding there are too many in a never ending flow.
What to do with time that never seems to end.
Seemingly more hours than with which I can contend.
Playing games and dithering just to pass the time away.
Sleeping endless moments and still finding its today.
Why do all the days seem so very long?
What choice did I make to make time ebb so wrong?
I know it hasn't always passed or seemed to happen in this way.
But oh so long ago since they were all a twenty four hour day.
No rhythm or regularity in times pattern anymore.
Why so many hours and what are the days all for?
I used to measure days by the passing of the sun.
But many times I sleep and of daylight I see none.
You may think I have control of all rhythms in these things.
But why control the repetition tomorrow always brings?
If I sleep eight times and I eat just only three.
Is that not a measure of how long my week should be?
Must I sleep just seven and eat per some schedule too?
Will I then contend with time as I am meant to do?
Will days take new meaning and my hours hold more reward?
Or will the extra hours awake just make me much more bored?
If I sleep twelve times and I eat when I have need to.
Aren't the days still the same length both for me and you?
Do we really share the same cycle if I view it on my own?
Or does time really move much slower for those who are alone?

There are too many days..... I cant do this many days. Too many days where darkness wins. Fate laughs endlessly. I am Fate's comedic performer and he laughs without end. Like a donkey behind a carrot I am led and with the rasp of a donkey's bray Fate's laughter rings in my ears.
I don't think I can do this. Where joy is substituted by despair and happiness succumbs to death.... and the symphony of laughter is the tune. The strings on this puppet are frayed and worn but the puppeteer is relentless. How do you fix the strings of a puppet in motion? Who will catch the puppet if he falls? I can hear no answers above the laughter that rings in my ears and so this puppet on tattered strings dances on to the tune that Fate maintains. How long is a piece of string? It matters not if the string can carry no weight.

Can nothing ask
Why it is there
If it’s nothing in the first place?

I should have gone to bed instead of
Speaking out of turn
And forcing them to listen
To hours of unnerve
If you find yourself so trapped with me,
Just plug your ears and wait
I tire of the voice I have
I tire of the weight.
Words are endless, are they not?
As if they don’t catch fast
When thoughts I have refuse to bring me
Further from the past.
Promise me you’ll listen?
You’ll push past all the noise?
I need to speak, I need to shout
And I need in me your poise.
Pointless was my favorite word
To scream inside my head
Until I found these words in me
To fight my faceless friend.
I know I’m here to be someone,
Stay here, I’ll find out who
Until then, stay and hear me
As my poems shuffle through

When the days are long and the nights are restless,
we seek for a way to forget.
We bathe in our sorrows.
We rip ourselves to shreds.
We bleed to feel, because not feeling hurts more then the pain of blades.
When life ***** us over we struggle to climb back up,
and when we get up. Life laughs and kicks us down again.

Whats the point.
We feel nothing.
We are in an endless cycle.
Whats the point.

Life is sure to cost you whilst on the path you choose.
And there will be heartache from things that you will lose.
A greater pain you may encounter, at a far greater cost,
is to no longer see a value in things that once you lost.

Everything I’m writing is a waste of time .
Tell me ,
What will this change ?
How will this eliminate that pain in my chest ?
Explain how writing my thoughts out can possibly help me .
Because these words feel useless .
Half filled water balloons
but instead of water
it’s fire .
Throwing fire balloons
Yet I live in a wooden shed .
None of this makes any sense .

These words feel like they’re burning a hole
In this poem
And not one you’re likely to remember .
Something insignificant .
Something only a grain of sand could fall through .
Tell me ,
How can someone as unimportant as me
Truly be heard ?
I speak when spoken to
And sometimes I speak just because .
But instead of a voice , all you hear are squeaks.
Unused to truly vocalizing what’s important to me
Because every time I used to try to speak my piece ,
They muted me .
How can I speak
If my problems don’t mean
A **** thing .
I talk about me to me
So much yet I don’t care about me .
So , my problems ?
They mean less to me than me .