My hand didn't want to awaken those abjections
but the ink wondered aimlessly on the paper.
Sullen  episodes were like a cloud on the page.

Mists of what was like heavy dew on my
mind, thoughts drooped uncontrollably.
Then they conceded under strain descending.

Ink was abstract as I never understood why
I felt this incosectant need to cry every thought
on paper. My reflection is not what I feel inside.

As the sullen figure of a woman sets alone in her room
You can feel in the atmosphere all the gloom
As memories rap on the doors in her mind
They well remain there for all time
For her they will never depart
For even if time erases them from the mind,they are written with scars in her heart
She sits there shoulders hunched over
A river of tears sliding down her checks, no longer able to hold her composure
She had slipped into her room, her sanctuary
The burden of being the strong one, for the moment she could no longer carry

Morose skies dripped with agony
As dawn beckoned closer.
I peered through the rim of the earth
And found utter nothingness.
Not a sound peeped, not a soul weeped
As I fell into the oblivion
Of the earths shallow shores.
Eyes cannot see what this world truly holds
Discomforted hearts longing
And weary eyes falling,
I cannot see through the surface
As my skin is crawling.
Skies shatter and life is amidst,
Entities full of bitterness.
My heart mourns for the emptiness,
But I cannot see the color of the earth.

I can't tell where the sound of my lungs end and my heartbeat starts.

They blur together similarly to how his body and mine are entangled under the layers of blankets. From another perspective, no one knows who is who and what is what.

My lungs are so disappointed in me. I breathe in nicotine more often than I should.

I've poisoned my veins and liver with cheap *****.

My eyes have grown sullen and heavy. Dark bags have found refuge under my tearducts.

the room is filled with
old lady stank
the kind that assaults the nose
and crawls down the throat in
an angry attempt to
drive you right out of the building.

she says the walls are “peach”
but I can see behind the cracked flakes
that it was once yellow.
I just grunt and sit at the edge of the bed
determined to hate both colors on
principle alone

I don’t want to be here, in her stank
I don’t want to look at the cracked
and pitted
desert that was once her face
I don’t want to strain to hear her
wavering and whispery voice

Yet here I am,
surrounded
by horrific images of a ****** Christ
nailed ironically to the walls
rosary beads hanging from
every candle in the room
and the Blessed ******
fighting
for space on the walls next to her
zombie son

where’s her god now
I wonder sourly as I strain to hear
her wavering and whispery voice
relate how nice the orderly was
who
washed
her prune of a body this morning.

hell, forget the god
where was her family
or her friends
or her nut job preacher

there’s only me
carrying my own stank of
whiskey and smokes
sitting here on the edge of
her bed
listening to her stories

It felt like the same 4.00 A.M as it was yesterday when he called it's just today phone calls are the last ones you will get from him and his voice will echo until you breathe your last breath

The shallow breath of loneliness
oppressed the room
trapped like pictures hanging on the wall
a sullen sideboard
carpet sprouting monkey flowers
spider webs, bare table legs
forgotten moments
thoughts unexpressed
the wind screaming to be let in.

On a winding stair, that leads particularly nowhere
each flight we save, to be lost is grave
the winds they flee, over a starry sea
and our hands are clutched, our hearts in touch

As a wisp of a cloud, flits sultrily by
and the yawning wave, wets our toes, and tries
to lure us in, to the hungry waters within
where doom is us, should we look in its eyes

We lay awake, gleaning much from the sky
she seems subdued, the sands softly sigh
a dragonfly dodders by, so slowly alive
we stare at nothing, as it stirs inside