I could fly like the Phoenix I'm supposed to be,
At cloud height, Cloud Nine, see everything
Were it not for the ropes that hold me down
Were it not for the bloodlust, torturous sounds
Were it not for the voices in my head
That sometimes make me wish I were dead

And maybe if I wasn't so critical
Or perhaps just a little less hypocritical
Were it not for the need to be OCPD
Straighten everything, as straight as can be

Checking my back because I'm paranoid,
That someone will appear, push me in the void
And I would swirl and spin, forever trapped
With all lights off, and no time to clap

That I would be that man, the one in black
Who would self-indulge in a self-aimed attack
Who would one day slit an artery, and just lay there
And with open eyes, unseeing, continue to stare

Glaring at the world that held him down
Glaring at the grey sky that never helped him out
Angry in death at those who tormented him, bullies
Maybe I could fly were it not for these,

Things

My smile is a collapsed lung of fake-ness
that I breath harder every lingering moment
of my existence.  Mutilating my cogitation
seeing the world in blurs of repetition.

I'm awoken by the pain of visualizations that
will not heed my alone time. But follow me
to that place that should be of silence. Instead
I scream in disillusion, as darkness was my escape.

There words are like raindrops of acid, and my
forest of thoughts wither upon the constant
onslaught of their needing to belittle me in the
presence of others. My branches fall frail to my side.

Others in shame, not a word spoken. No breeze to
hinder the hurricane of illusions that repeatedly
impact on my subconscious place. I'm silent like
a tomb of sorrows, I bury myself inward and deep.

I made my first mistake today, as they like a well
oiled clock, blood hound hunters of my scent find me.
In a moment I heed to my anger and clench my fist,
and then I'm blooded on the floor by there disbelief.

What is life? a moment of breathes that heed in our
existence. Is that what this is called? I collect tears in
threads of and bind them. This is my tears of pain
that I now hang from, pity me now as I only hear silence.

One of my spoken words. You can listen to it here;
https://soundcloud.com/elithelostboy/rope

I don’t know if I’ll be alive much longer. I spent every day trying to get stronger and stronger. But I still feel the same. Like God is just playing some sick and twisted game. I don’t remember the last time I felt alive, it’s just constant hours of feeling dead inside.

And it’s all your fault. It’s all your fault that my life is coming to a speedy halt. I opened up for the first time in years. You broke down my walls and helped me conquer my fears. You said you’d always be there, that we were going to be the perfect pair. But you lied, and now everything is crumbling down like a landslide. Where are you? While I’m here in the dark, with blood dripping down my wrists, a razor in my tightly grasped fists. Where are you? I need you. I love you. Or maybe I hate you, and my emotions are clouding my judgment. If I survive you can bet your *** that when someone new comes and takes your place, I will be reluctant. Reluctant to let my walls fall down. Because when the last person said she’d be around she killed herself. And now she’s just a memory on a shelf, like you’re going to be. Forever haunting my dreams, breaking me down at the seams. You’re just like everyone else. You’re not different. You’re ******* ignorant. You’re a liar, and a heartbreaker.

And now there’s a rope around my neck, and I’m writing you one last letter before I jump off this deck. Before I go see God, I need you to know that you were single most significant person in my world for a while. You were my second chance at love. But when push came to shove, you left too. Sure you’re alive, and she’s not. But I’d rather you be dead than alive. So instead of being distracted by the guys who treat you like ****, so instead of having to live in the same planet as the person who ripped out my core, you’d be dead. Just like her. You’d become a faded memory of something that once was. So instead of you dying, I’ll take the bullet. Because I don’t want to live in a world where I can’t be near you. Where I can’t love you.

I'd say goodnight
Except you wouldn't hear
The misery dripping from dry lips
So frozen with fear

I'd say goodbye
Except I'd see you again
But it'll hurt watching a stranger
When they were your friend

I'd say good luck
But I know that you won't need it
You already have everything
So I guess you won't receive it

I'd say come back
Only it'd hurt twice as bad
Because I'm used to sadness
But I hate getting mad

And I'd swing from the rope
For my sins I would choke
But you'd probably cut me down again
So that path is a no

I guess I can't quit
I guess I'm not done
Maybe somewhere out in the world
I can have some fun

I wanna feel that again..,

there's a knot in the middle of my spine -
a knot made with flaming fuchsia rope -
that i have never been able to untangle.

my fingers aren't able to reach it quite right;
no matter how much i rub or how far i arch my back against the mattress,
the knot remains as taut as a lifeline.

and i can't cut it loose also,
i don't leave no scars on my back for i have promised myself the blade's lips can kiss my wrist and my wrist only.

there have been people who have encountered me in this life to whom i have mentioned the knot.

a couple of people only nodded and avoided my troubled eyes.

some people have had the pleasure of fastening it even tighter.
experienced sailors with impressive tying skills,
that can secure an entire ship of agony and relentless torture to a worn and raw anchor as heavy as my body,
with the vessel of malicious fingernails and empty words.

most people have only soothed my aching back with gentle fingers;
caressed and patted the knot with a tight lip drawn upon the face
and pitied my sorrow with forbearing eyes.

no one has ever cared to untie the unforgiving knot.

no one has reached out to pull the burning end of the rope and set it loose.

no one has carelessly ripped out of me the sigh i have been guarding in the hollow of my throat for so long.

no one has set me free.

Flattered heart of the unthought
Flattened cases await departure
A mount of unused garbage
Tragedy in fuelled ignitions

Digging slowly to make sense of the mess
Accumulation of desire in haste
A hoard of heaped cotton and canvas
Looped in discourse of cages

A sleep to mask the heated moment
After a dawn the mountain blurs
Impending progression,dashing hopes
Receding rope, a destined pit