Staring at blank screen
Dark night and caffeine
From wasteland trying to inspire
Barren- and true to nature I desire
To have what I can’t hold
To possess what can’t be sold
Life to fill this mortal frame
Not with child but with flame
In vacuum of my own making
All things numb to stop me breaking
Can’t survive like this for long
I imagine myself strong
Force my eyes to adjust
Force myself to trust
That the night holds beauty in a different way
Revealing what can’t be seen by day
But see no purpose to this torture of my soul
Except I know I’ll be stronger when I’ve crawled out of this hole!

it's like i'm swimming from coast to coast
but still i'm drowning everyday
by body is an unwanted host
that dosen't listen when i pray

it's like my soul is so tired
that it wants to exhaust
i'm mad and uninspired
i'm lost

haven' written in a while
its not cause I haven' been inspired
just been traveling the world
and growing into myself
been growing into the world
maybe its cause I don' feel the same
pain anymore or cause I don'
think bout you anymore
which isn' quite true but I don'
think about you like I used to

I'm on the brink of extinction
every pound , penny and note
wasted on cigarettes.
this infatuation is killing me
you're all killing me.

Mum , the counsellor noted
that  I  took ten aspirins a week after he left me.
That's why my nose was bleeding
like a pure red rose in the morning.  

All that I ever wanted was someone to hold me
someone who'd always care , I guess i'm just awful
committing unlawful activities
at a short grimly modern age of fifteen.

Life is so short , I feel like I've lived it all already.
I "give out" too easy as I act cute
when i'm really just ******.
I never get what i want ,
and i make out it's every ones fault.

Meeting people who I hadn't known could be so mean,
it still leaves me in awe remembering we're only teens.
when i give it my best..you'll break me down and ask for less.

The last 4 months have been hell,
I keep backtracking , making sure what really made you yell.
Developing into my current state took a lot out of me.
I used to be so toxic free and happy.

As of now I'm on the brink of extinction.
drowning sorrows with drink,
embracing the intoxication.

I will shake and still whisper I love you
because without him up until now
i have felt nothing.

Please god, give me something.

what do you do when you're uninspired?
when life feels like a pale instagram filter - a worn out memory.
when it tastes like a bread slice that's been toasted for too long.
when your soul doesn't catch fire anymore.
when excitement becomes an alien emotion that belongs to another space and time or just someone else.
when inspiration's at your doorstep but you can't hear the doorbell because you're too busy searching for it among the ashes of your cigarette.
what can you do when your body's a living coffin for your dead soul?

You pretend, you pretend, you pretend.
Until the clock wears out & it's finally Game Over.

the electricity posts
in my veins are all broken
and there aren't enough
electrical engineers to revive them.
the atmosphere is getting colder
and the flowers in my tongue slowly whither.
i'm running out of words to use for a the color of your eyes
so im sorry if they turn out to be like anyone else's.
the absence of the tidal waves of poetic awakening
cripples my wrist and fingers until the only way
to get me to write is to bleed.
i want to feel alive
like im a cloud swimming through
the fantastic colors of the sky.
i miss the way ink drips from my fingertips
i want to feel home again.
home with words, with poetry.
laying down on a bed of proses while a piece
sings softly in the background.
that's my hyper-reality, a kind of fantasy
i can no longer find meaning in.

Alexander Hamilton could write
like nobody's business,
while I'm sitting in lamplight
in the dim city,
and I can't even use
the resources I've been given,
nor take advantage of the
time I have
like he did.
And I have plenty of time,
I'm not running out of it,
just running out on life.