The tyranny of this empty room
will always be the underlying comfort of no one.

These books left unread, has been the taste of my inglorious pursuit of happiness.

A guitar hanging on the wall collecting dust and rust, is a product of my unremarkable trust with myself.

A single bed that will be slept on later, will be filled with imaginative thoughts of grandeur,
Combined with the thoughts that betrayed me compiled with,
"I should've and could've".

Only this pen latched on to my hand to carve the honest words,
This paper to produce erasures of beautiful sentences.
The writer that will bear the coming of tomorrow.

Tonight I watch the water hit my skin
No matter how hard I scrub
I just can't get this day to go down the drain
So I guess It stays
This depressed state
At this point it knows me better than my own shadow
At this point it knows me better than I know me
At this point
What's the point...

Tonight,
I dread to sleep.
My fingers are restless,
they yearn to write,
but alas,
I have nothing to write.

It is not that I have been bled dry,
it is just I have not lived.
To sleep,
to live,
it seems that
I am unable to do either.

I can’t wait to give you what you want
Got champagne and snack when you come
Dress up in that lace red nighttime gown
Cause tonight baby, you is mine, mine, mine
We can go half-and-half on a son
Keep you company until morning dawn
Just keep calm, no need to scream & shout
Cause tonight baby, you is mine, mine, mine