I fear
But I do not know what I fear
Maybe it's
Late nights wasted with people
And thoughts of people
Who do not matter
And who will never matter
Or only mattered once

It is human nature to desire death
Especially in this day and age

The world around us has become a collection of instants
From the messages we write up to the noodles we eat

Life goes so fast that we absorb so much at once
Our minds are filled with milleniums
Of words and dates and names of people we will never meet
And knowledge of places we will never go to

Humans live too fast
Our minds faster than our bodies
And when our minds live life to the fullest
We are left with only our bodies

How would it be like to die in a gutter?
A gutter made of cold pavement
That slowly grows warmer and warmer
As I lay down and feel the life drain out of the pores of my skin
A gutter with stagnant water turned green
By whatever the hell makes stagnant water green

Some nights I see myself dying in a gutter
I feel the warm blood rush out of my mouth
And the icy gutter slime on my right shoulder
Both of them cooling my skin, one more than the other

I watch cars full of people
Who don't care enough to help a dying man
Pass by my side as I die sluggishly
With their rubber necks and undeaf ears

I don't want to die in a gutter
I would never want to die in a gutter,
But if there is peace and silence in dying in one
Let the cars pass

To escape
The horrors
And reality
Of life
Is enjoyable

May it be
Roadtrips
And city lights
Or highway reflectors

May it be
In relics
In museums
Or paintings
In hallways

May it be
In dark movie theaters
On summer nights
Or in sunlit parks
On summer afternoons

May it be
With the love of your life
On condominium balconies
Or on soft beds

Escape
The reality
Of the cruel world

Beams of morning light
Force their way into my room
The noises from the cars
And motorcycles and the TV
Blast their way into my ears
But I stay strong

I am not ready for a new day
I do not want the sunlight or the cars or TV
I am not ready for a new day
And I would rather stay under my blanket

I want to choke you till the life leaves your eyes
The sound of you trying to force air into your lungs
Is a sweeter fantasy
Than me wanting to jab myself in the neck with a pen
Or stab my eyes out with a knife

The dream that is your death
Is sweeter than my suicide
More eye-opening
Than my dark desire
To be in a casket

As the days pass,
My anger only grows
And the dreams in my head
Stay dreams

If I could tattoo my poetry to my skin, I would
I would show them my word-riddled wrists
Where the scars used to be
And the prosaic verses sprawled on my neck
Where I planned to loop the rope

If my poems were good, I would tattoo them on my skin
Sadly, all I have are a sophomoric amalgamates of odd words
That make dead poets turn in their graves