"What's funny is" is a ****** statement to be on the receiving end of, it nearly ever ends well.

What's funny is... Often times, most of the time, it's not funny at all. Curious, that we take humorous language and make it into lighter fluid to burn bridges.

What's funny is... The fire is usually a case of arson brought about by projection of in-the-moment feelings, that are fleeting. *******, that we allow ourselves to make them permanent; just mindless masochistic beasts wallowing in the ashes.
What's funny is... The echo chambers we've created for ourselves are actually prisons. Ironic, that we make up walls made out of bricks of unreachable goals, and feel disappointment when we don't achieve them.

What's funny is... Is that the more I interact with people the more I understand why we let ourselves indulge, and indulge, and indulge, to numb the monotony for just one ******* second. Nerve wracking, that every person is just a liability I cannot trust to not become the shackles attaching the weights that drown me.

What's funny is... As hard as I try to remain invisible, I'm forever tracked by a spotlight that blinds me. Insane, to think for one second we are anything but dirt on the ground; let me be dirt.

What's funny is... The numbness, and the pain, are like logs on the fire. Enduring, daily, the pokes and prods to keep the embers going when all they wanna do is die.

What's funny is... I like to dance in the flames but hate being on fire. Truthfully, I aim for embers.

Our relationship just words
            I said I love you

You never replied

         Was our relationship a lie?

We always argued
We always fought
                              but I had faith

I would love to see the day
Where our love would not be carried away
By the words, we built it upon

              Was I twisted for lying to myself
I wanted to believe you loved me
I wanted to say we were happy

We would have been proud
     Why?
  
Did you know?

Truth
Expose
All
                                               because it's true that
Reality
*****

Speak to me in numbers
Something tangible
Calculated
Equate your feelings with something
I can infer
Without asking you to
Work these problems over again.

My mouth is burned
By the acidic tastes
Of the orange rinds
And mistakes
Of the toxic paste
Driveled from my head
And out my throat
With haste,
And yet,
I never let go
Of the next bite.

Light me up
Burn my remains
Leave my memories to turn
To ash in the forest
Remind the others
To stay away.

Help me
I am scared
Of the men in my closet
Their skeletons wound
Like a jack in the box
So when I look for something
And the door just nearly cracks
for those I’d almost forgotten
They all come crashing down
Suffocating me with their cold bones.

Why
Am I
The target
Of your ire

When
I was
Not part of
Events transpir'd

Why
Do I
Find myself
Doing the same

As
If I
Didn't know
About such pain

I rest in the belly of rage
Overwhelmed and a bit dismayed

Unable to speak
Without spewing venom
I seek shelter
From my mental asylum

This torture is but my own
Come one
Come all
Then be gone

Let me rest
Until I return again

This beast is not my friend.