the hardest thing to do in a world of lies
is to learn to trust again
the endless void of crippling apathy
consumes as a chasm of pain
the hardest thing to do in a world of hate
is to love yourself to death
the endless void of crippling apathy
was not allowed first breath
it was born dead
but not allowed to die
disgraceful abomination of the chasm of pain
if life is cloth this is its stain
my god did not bear witness to its worship
no soul left to claim
and so his silent pleas were thrown aside, worthless prayers in the rain
no soul left aside
in the chasm of pain

my mirror
has been screaming at me
for a while
I chose to walk away today
but it began to follow
became a black shadow
creeping into my cranium
to stay

broken reflection
in my head
that closing eyes
couldn’t save
shaking the grains
in my brain
didn’t help
like shattered glass
it slithered and sliced
my skin and scalp

cutting the chords
of light from my eye
bleeding fingers from braille
left me blind
without vision
there’s no escaping
the mirror
of reason
in my mind

It's weird. . .

The way humans shame those who can and do feel more deeply than them,

For having a more intensely experienced reality,

Just because they can't see it, hear it, feel it, then it must be

That we are just over-dramatic, that we are "making it up" . . .

Right?

But really, who's fault is it that you're still dead inside?

What was it that made me think?
Who turned me in that direction?
Stand around and watch me sink,
Different versions of affection.

Did they ever see me blink?
Living a life of pure deception,
Hope not to drown, and so I drink,
As long as I look like perfection.

Something about me fits your kink,
No self-control, just a slave to your *******,
How did this begin? Was it the wink?
You're nothing but a **** infection.

Don't mind my mind, it's on the brink,
Deny my every last objection,
The shame I have hides in pink,
Your shame is triggered by rejection.

Live your life within your lies,
Go on and raise a f*g kid,
But when you look into my eyes,
We both know what you did.

To be mad at you is a waste of energy,
Forgiveness is just about the same,
Not mad at you, or anything,
And now I can't even remember ya name!
With love and light my remedy,
I hope you lose at your own game,
Because though you are no enemy,
You'll never understand the pain.

You'll never know the after math,
The years and tears that come,
You'll never know my wrath,
Because for you, it's all said and done.

I hope your parents question you,
I hope they look at you with disgust,
Whatever story that you spew..
But hey, one day we'll all be dust.

Words fail me
I don't know what I feel
I want to fade to nothing
And let the silence consume me
So many perspectives
I don't know which is true
Maybe all of them are
But then what?
They tell me I'm good
While my guilt swallows me whole
Rule one is do no harm
And I've shattered that
They say it's being a human
And I guess that's true
But if I can do anything to help
Then I'd like to
Where is that fine line
Between values and pain?
I don't owe it to them
But I feel like I do
If getting burned makes it better
At what point do I quit?
Do I hand over the matches?
Soak my soul in gasoline?
Pain for pain seems so fair
I made mistakes and I have to own them
But does letting myself burn
Really help anyone?

The weight of the world
as it waits for the red, red earth to move
a collective breath held
as a personal fear is shared

For a news cycle, we care
and choke a little at the tiny coffin
before clowns and sabre-rattlers
blind us from the graves behind

Michele Di Carlo became a freak show
the day he climbed up a tree
To his dismay, that rainy day, he fell
and broke his bone in three

Some say, it could have been worse
a deformity for the hard ******
but humbled now, with a wrist to hide
now that his fingers were all twisted

Yet, no shame is in the mangled
Michele dangled no pity in his pain
He learned to show it off in pride
though be crippled or he be lame

When shaking hands with most men
he smiles, offering a disfigured hand
His strength was in his frailty
a bashfully better and stronger man

For on the day of his funeral
photos reveal before he died
an array display of his freakish limb
his best pose by his side

Even then, Mr Carlo in his coffin
requested only one thing when laid to rest
that when they placed him in the ground
they’d lay his hand upon his chest