hazy and oddly mystified
a filter holding me back
from what is good in this life

will i ever escape
the mental anguish of jail bars
hours they take
holding me back from who i was before

“there’s no sense
in holding onto something broken.”
but in my defense
i might be the “something broken”

would it be a tragedy
if we all died tomorrow?
we wouldn’t need anymore gravity
or even sorrow

would it be a crime
to not get back up again?
could we disregard the time?
would it be a sin?

my headspace is numb
i understand
this is frightening to some
no one can know i am unable to stand

the first of the year
things don’t feel too different
but i am still here

the first of the month
things are beginning
what should i first confront

the first of the week
yet i am unsure
what is it that i seek

the first of next year
full circle
wonder if i’ll defeat this fear

disfunctioned and disfigured
the vision of my brain
making all my senses triggered

i stare in the mirror and ask,
"should i go numb?
should i come up with a mask?"

the vehemence at war
ripping and shredding
at my dignity now ablur

i add a bit of hope at the end
in hopes that it will spread its wings
and let its heart extend

you want to feel joy
but it’s kind of disintegrated
you want to relate
but your soul is deflated

numb to all
even familiar places
you once felt safe
before these spaces

will you ever be free?
it all seems jaded
when will you see
all the happiness you traded

where is the humanity?
answer me, please
before i lose my sanity
and fall to my knees

there is disease flooding through the street
but wouldn't you rather catch it
or have your loved ones leave?
please try to care, just a little bit

if you walk with the flood,
are you really risking it all?
which is the true blood
that is really being drawn?

if you shake hands with a dead man
are you really making a deal?
if you run from life,
are you really going to heal?

it's too heavy
blundering boulders of weight
crash down on my weak soul
my legs unable to stand straight

i don't know how much longer
i can pretend
realness is my moral
and i don't know how much further
my conscience can bend

where is the end to the stream?
the stream of thoughts that flow
"give it time"
only time will show