I could write
on emotion alone.
Through bitterness,
I sought beauty.
With rage,
I expressed
the torrent within.
All was aflame,
all had burned brightly.

But now,
it is naught but a flicker.
I pass time quietly,
as the ash of past emotions
blanket the landscape with grey.
I am tired.
I fear I may
never recover.

This man has lost all twenty-seven emotions
Like a robot -
Any whiff of emotion even feels too much
Every word this man says is snubbed
Every sleep - his heart beats slower

          From the pain this man suffered

The drugs this man used to be
So afraid of -
Scares him no more
For it had almost wounded him
Right by his own bed

          Which he saw as a liberation

This man is tired
He's ended up becoming
What he used to fight against
It has consumed his soul
To the point of no recovery

         Which is no longer necessary

This man has zero life
He lives for no one
To be precise -
To pay the price -
This man shall die tonight

          At this point, death would hurt less

i’m sick of the fake world of social interaction
slouching, but pretending when someone asks
“haha, you should totally go for it,” when i don’t even support such a decision

also you should have showed me that story too
although it’s so cringe and i could do without
it
but i’m bad with people, talking, chatting
being a person of substance
substantially
i spilled my sticky juice down my hands
and pretended like it wasn’t uncomfortable and awkward
some weird kid i try to call my friend just hit my other friend’s boyfriend
like an infantile sociopath
now i am getting off topic
but
in my classroom
why are people saying being like that is a sin?
they aren’t even smart enough to believe who God really is
how sad that they’ll never be wasted
until they get burned
and maybe yesterday was awful
but maybe today is way worse
because i am fed up with everyone
(i don’t wanna curse)
i hope there’s no more rolling eyes and annoyed glances coming out from me
or maybe you should just be less annoying
yeah, be less annoying,
children

respect: earned through suffering
no food no sleep no rest
worth: deemed by usefulness
idleness is useless is worthless

a cart of ideologies
hurtling down an infinite hill
pushing on to the next poor fools
who receive and continue

maybe I need to slow it down
throw myself in front and
bump
did that work

is one made a martyr
or just a conman, the easy way out
refusing to play the game
opt out of self sacrifice with self sacrifice

the falls of the walls
make me wanna crawl.

it makes me feel small
of the constant withdrawal.  

of all & all
i just want to mentally
uninstall.

a slow inhale as i wake
aches in every muscle
every nerve on its end
exhausted and heavy
time blurs into itself
into a single moment
into picturesque bliss
on a rotting canvas
i am rotting with it
the world keeps spinning
my clothes become tatters
my knees become weak
my feet bleed
if i could just close my eyes
for five more minutes
five more hours
five more years
which is better
to stand and fall
or kneel and live
to live is to suffer
to forever kneel
for those who tower over me
to always be less
to always be this
to feel the world crumbling around me
again and again
i kneel and cower
to protect myself from debris
that crushes me anyway
life is kneeling
so maybe i should stand
and fall
because kneeling
isn't living

I had to lie,
as you were asking
about these tears.
I had to hide the truth,
and swam in my own thoughts.
I had to breathe alone now,
as you left me in the darkness.
I had to lose you,
on the process of finding me.
I had to build my walls too,
because no one really gets under.