I listen to the sounds of the night.
It shadows everything but my plight.
Silhouette of dreams cloud my subconscious.
While memories  claw their way up making me nauseous.

You see life is like a hard pill to swallow. It's necessary and sometimes the pain dulls and makes you hollow.

In these moments I call bliss.
In these moments that I fear.
Because the numbness is sometimes too great, that even my mind gets scared.

The pleasure of nothingness that yearns for something. The immediate void that leaves you wanting.

But sometimes the numbness is what makes things okay. Just a second away from the pain that haunts me.

Walking a fine line of content and nonchalance. But when the pain comes back, somethingness wishes for the numbness that it lost.

Sometimes I feel like a ghost floating through life. Wanting to touch and feel but things just pass by.

My grip on reality is feeble. Loosening by the second as I teeter on the line.

But I can't ask for help because I'm supposed to be fine. I'm supposed to able to handle the struggle life throws my way, because even though I know pain is a subjective spectrum I still don't feel like I should complain.

My heart is confused my spirit is tired. The passion that once lives in my eyes has expired.

I know not of how to fix it and sometimes I'm scared that I can't because the word failure lives in me like it's my own personal chant.

So I listen to the night hoping it'll chase away my demons. Because the light only provides me more time to see them.

reading words, of hues emery
darkening shades of the fastly falling frenzy
awash with the world
haunted by the memories
of those things here and gone,
still the jabs come,
by no tangible entity

iridescent burning out
wellspring of love
running dry to match the mouth
of one mighty
Huascarán

Sometimes poetry is like a war:
Even though you're so tired and small,
You put your strained muscles back to work,
Overcoming and jumping the walls.
And when you've literally run out of strength
In this wild and insane pursuit of truth
Either rise to the challenge – or quit,
But quitting is also death.