The body sits, watched
by birds. Some rest found
in the dark palm
of shade. He imagines
the desert
pushed underneath
the largest ocean
which is guiding him,
slowly like the air,
toward an end.

But desert returns
and the dirt is dry within
his hand.

I just want to cry.
I want to fly,
away from here.
Nothing is going right.
I want you.
I need you.
Who are you?
Where are you?
Come to me.
Comfort me.
Run to me.
Nothing is going right.

I will never understand whether being alone is your choice or someone else's.
Left broken-hearted,
Left in tears,
Thoughts are wandering,
Whether it's your fault.
All of a sudden, you're one step away from wanting THAT feeling.
That feeling that'll repair all the damage,
And one you'll cherish forever.

I believe there is a destiny for everyone
I believe there is someone out there for everyone
We spend our lives looking for both

But at night
When everyone sleeps
My mind wanders

And I ask myself
Do these things exist
Or are we spending too much time looking
When we should be waiting

The solo road takes hold. I don't know where it goes, but where it goes I go.
A midnight’s drive under a sky full of clouds, blocking the moonlight.
Only the glimpse of a shimmering star guides my way, but to what I do not know.
A night of indifference, just going where this winding road takes me, but
I can barely see that shining star through clouds of hesitation.
The road is a one lane highway to a destination unknown
the fog is so dense it is like a layer of blankets used to hide the fears of a child in the dark.
At this point I wonder if it can hide my fears as well.
Do I even want to hide from these fears at all or should I stand up to the inevitable?
My engine’s sputtering, stalling, my car’s running out of gas and I feel like I just might crash.
I put my foot to the gas and hope that I wont fly through the glass and end up with my car smashed, because this car is my only way off this **** road in the first place.
I see no headlights coming my way even though I pray that one day I will see a light at the end of this godforsaken road but the day isn't today.
Some days I pray that I will lay on the road face down
with a trail of my essence turning the road red with release
but other days I carry on like it was my job to mindlessly keep both of my hands on the steering wheel and hope that at the end of this road, there’s an exit sign,
and that all I need’s a little more time.
Because night after night, my hands grip the wheel so hard my knuckles turn white as the fog that clouds my vision day after day.
My sighs echo down this ever growing street, every twist and turn feels like another reason
to unbuckle my seatbelt and open the door because
I’m going 85 in a 50 and I can’t even see my own headlights on the road
my vision is blurred and my mind is as foggy as the road I drive on.
Every now and again I wonder what the point is
I can barely remember the day I started driving, it was so long ago
and I pray for the day when I can wash this fog away in rain,
that I’ll find an exit and take it.

I nestle the warmth around me
as the sun moves on to tend the rest of the world.
I wave goodbye
by the little oil lamp,
my only source of light.

So I descend into a sleep,
so deep I almost feel like I am moving up.
And there I am chasing the sun back to my side of the world.
Only to wake up once again.

A layer of mud, caked over a hollow can. Rusted tin, a broken man. Kicked on down the crooked road, past the hollow shells that some called homes. Down the peeling yellow lines, past the wind torn soldier pines. White ash replicas of organic times. Broken bones and unanswered crimes. Blood spilled red is caked on brown. A hollow circlet, a corpse's crown. Syanarra and sweet good byes. Black veiled eyes gazing out like dots on dies. Eerie portals, the Devil's spies. Open mouths, silent still but speaking lies

Alone
That’s all I am
in this open empty state.
And exhausted.
                                  So fricking tired.
Physically,
mentally,
emotionally
exhausted.
     And the glass feels half empty.
Though the sky is so full;
I can’t help but feel alone.
Because no matter how much love
is handed to me
faked
for my benefit,
for their gain,
it’s nothing real.
There’s nothing gained
only lost.
One more broken piece
of myself
handed away.
               One more wasted day.
useless.
And wasteful.
But hopeful, at least.
Maybe…
      Am I even     progressing?
Or am I moving
backwards?
to the crap that used to be…?
I can hold myself up,
but after so long
my strength goes slack.
     because I know what I lack.
I feel so dang alone
          and can any of us
                                  really,
                    ­                       make it alone?