The darkness disguised as light that is life creeps slowly into my spine like water dripping down a rain gutter after a storm. The reality in the air fills my lungs like twenty cigarettes all smoked in a dimly-lit stairwell on a Tuesday afternoon. I exhale as hard as I can, but the reality ceases to leave my being. It carves into my windpipe like a tiger's paw, ripping it into shreds as gravity pulls it back down.

I take a look at the calendar. A calm font reads December 24. I feel nothing. There is no cheer or happiness lingering in the supposedly cool December breeze. It used to fill the air with the scent of gingerbread and mint, but all there is now is the smell of rotting garbage, sun-dried ****, and the occasional stench of ****.

False smiles are painted across coffee shop windows. Bright lights that distract you from the world are wrapped around the trees. Mary gives birth to Jesus on each manger atop each building. It all still feels blank. The magic is gone. The false smiles frown at me. The luster of each bulb of each string of light has faded into a bland dullness. What lies atop the buildings are dead eyed statues.

Where has it all gone?

it's a hot day
in mid-December
as well
the world
(as we know it)
has gone
even more
topsy-turvy

Decembers used to be cold
like heartbreak after a date
or a cold shower at 4 a.m.

there isn't much around
besides the ceiling, the floor,
and the four walls that confine me
while the not-so-soothing sounds
of motorcycles pass by
my cage with silver bars
that i like to call my house

i miss you
and the summer's warmth
you bring when nights are cold
and the October breeze you have
when the days are hot

I am back in the cycle.
The back and forth
And back again
Of the silent non-silence
Of this filthy city life.

I wake up in the bed
I laid in the night before,
Rise up to take a liquid ****
And retreat once again
Into the blanketed dome
That is my mattress.

The sun shines through
The cracks in the seemingly
Single piece of colored cloth
That we call curtains
And seep in through the fabric
Of the actual single piece of cloth
That we call blankets.

When the ****** star's light
Is more than bearable, I take away
The blanket from my face
And face reality as it is
From the cool and calm not-peace
That is my room covered in sunlight.

A few more hours
Worth of wallowing in not-happiness
Would be very sufficient
To start the "day".
A few more hours
Adjusting to the hellish yellow light
That blinds my eyes,
But frees them from the darkness
At the same time.
A few more hours
To plan the next few hours
Only to not follow the plan
And once again act on impulse
The same way I did yesterday.

Come with me
Through the noise
And the disarray

The deafening tones
Of screaming children
And dying adults
(Millennials probably
We both know
That they never
Shut up)

The world
Around ourselves
Is a path
Of broken glass
Atop coal embers,
So I beg you
To hold my hand
And walk through them
With me

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