My head is full of static, or maybe im made of static, all i know is I’ve lost myself in it and im not sure how to find my way out. Ive lost all feeling, its almost like im not even really here at all.
I feel myself fading, i wish i could save her but i know that she must be long gone now, i feel myself becoming someone else, someone i ******* hate. But i cant stop it the static, the constant feeling of.....

“Forget it, I don’t know. Never mind. Its okay im okay, no its really fine i don’t know its just a bad day, don’t worry about it.”

Static fills my chest as my vision blurs and im gone lost in my head the world around me just gone, everything sounds far away,  sometimes i wish i could stay here forever. Where the world is quiet and i don’t have to feel, or really think, its the closest thing ill get to peace. But i always snap back, and the sounds rush in and I’ve lost another piece of myself.

Tumbling,  falling, twirling over a desolate landscape
Where flowers once grew, green and merry

The delinquent hope that under, the suffocating snow, flowers can bloom.
Shards of ice building from the rubble.
Daggers of chill

Changing, falling, melting beauty from ugly. At the edge of the glacier, a trapped memory teetering, to fall or fly. The cold whispering.

The sun obscured by the clouds, brooding, grey

A flurry of words, a once rapid river, as frozen as his heart

Caught in a blizzard, hanging in the balance, will it thaw?

My ship it lies motionless,
nestled in the dunes.
I'm very far away from home,
and I can't find the moon.

I creak and wobble left and right
as I sail among the sand.
Windy gusts will raise the grains
yet carry me throughout this land.

The little boat then takes a turn,
toward a watery reprise.
Struggling the yellow stone,
The boat finds only lies.

As I sail into the night,
my ship it lies motionless,
nestled in the dunes

I don't know the rules. If I go looking
for grace and find it, what will grace

be but penance for my past, a silver
sinew-thread wrapping 'round old
            wrongs, gray hair for the
                        fickle.

I've naught but want for sweet release
from this history. The bombs ignored,
            repeating in gramophone static
                        dripping stiff

as wet bamboo. I remember someone
once sang here, once strung together

chords so sweet they rang like peace-
bells beneath cloudless sky. They've
            rang the bell upon my jaw and
                        done no wrong.

It's not so much unlike one's curiously
cold reception at a funeral. The cold
            and rain ****** at the skin
                        during graveside hymnal.

As long as the earth continues
its stony breathing I will breathe.

That which I cannot help but do.
Stuck between boulders, I sing.

When it stops, I will shatter back
into gravity. Into quartz.

The static speaks my name and it's driving me insane,
the night's stars are it's eyes and I watch it right back.
Shadows cast on the blame, but still lighting up the pain,
I'm covered up under the skies with a veil pitch black.

The silence overloads my brain, and each thought's wasted in vain,
with a million possibilities that will never occur.
I am shackled with a moral chain, but it supports me to refrain
from a sense of humility that I can't ever deter.

I find each locked door more outrageous,
and I'm left like before, wondering if I'm contagious.
Why would they comfort me instead,
of putting a gun straight to my head?

The static speaks my name with pronunciation it can't obtain,
if white noise could stutter it'd probably have quite the drawl.
Questioning if I should feel shame, if I'm a painting or a stain,
or just a curse you mutter like graffiti on the bathroom stall.

I find it all dizzying and real dangerous,
I'm wondering if my misery is contagious.
Why would they comfort me instead,
when they could just leave me in my bed?

The static shrieks,
the floorboard creaks,
the river's dry but the faucet leaks.
The static shrieks,
years came from weeks,
I live in quiet, only silence speaks.

I plan my life in different stages,
I wonder if my strife is contagious.
Why would you comfort me instead,
of letting me follow the path you led?

I’m fidgeting with the AUX cord of my headphones
It’s because music is only blaring through one of the ears
It’s strange

To my left, I can hear the sonorous warcry of a singer
To my right, I only hear a contemptful whisper from a dark corner of my mind

To my left, I hear a percussionist beating the drums and cymbals
To my right, all I hear is the sound of tears bursting against the floorboards

To my left, a moving melody accompanies a soulful serenade
To my right, there is only empty static to fill an eerie silence

Maybe I should consider getting these old things repaired
Or getting a new pair entirely
Oh, would you look at that!
I finally managed to fix it
Now everything is alright again.

I stand on the path
           never walking,
         I just watch the pavement
move on...

Sometimes we don't see
           that which is brightest
before us.

         Only trying to stop,
                    when were already
static.