Fear deepens and plays
on insecurities
like the shrill of a violin
it leaves your heart on edge
taking and blackening bits of the soul
contentment such a far fetched goal

I can't help but fall.
deeper,
            deeper,
                        deeper.
These little blue and white pills pull me so far down.
Into darkness.

After two, I feel my once tense muscles begin to relax.

Three more and my eyelids start to get heavy.

Four more, my mind eases; thoughts drain themselves away.

Five more, and consciousness escapes me.

A sea of medicated sleep engulfs me.
I float away, far deeper than my sober being could wallow.

Here, I can't hear the voices. Inside, or out.

No one to remind me what a disappointment I am.
No mirror to look into and think about how disgusting the thing is, staring back at me.
No overwhelming thoughts to motivate a razor across my body.
Nothing.
No one.
Just the comforting silence of sweet dreamless sleep.

I like ink,
and  I like chicks,
and I like ink mixed with skin,
but I also like skin,
with only sweat mixed in.

Is that God or Desperation
     That gets us through the night?
Are the faces in the ceiling real,
     or figments of the light?
Do we fill our minds with banal thoughts,
     to help us on our way.
Do we mark the time thats slipped and gone?
     To live in fear of that final day.

An argument is meaningless
     to the one who lives in faith.
Though all of us are faithful,
     and in that faith so few will sway.
Yet still the act of lashing out,
     seems to have it’s own relief.
Is that God or Desperation
     when we question those beliefs.

Is that God or Desperation
     that keeps us shelling money out?
In the quest to find some meaning
     are some willing to sell out?
Is the “truth” that some are preaching,
     worth the solace that it gives?
Even if that comfort irritates,
     and causes other men to ****.

Is there truly any way to live,
     when the fact is we all die.
Or is the truth what makes the soul,
     feel vibrant and alive.
If we embrace our own mortality,
     is it then that we really shine?
Is it God or Desperation,
     that leads to a novel life.

Parents are wonderful people
They bring you in to this world and before you flutter your eyes,
before you take your very first breath they love you and care for you
They raise you as best as they can
They try to do everything to make you happy
They keep you safe and warm
They want you to be always with them
But from the first moments of freedom
You push them away
You get mad at them for trying so hard
You hurt them and fail them
You leave them behind as you try to have your own life
But that life was never really your own
It was theirs, so you ran so that you can truly be yourself
But that was never possible because that can never be
So now you ran in to nothingness, left with out a beginning
And if there isn’t a beginning then there can never be an end
And all you ever wish for is an end of the life that was never yours

Does the wind and tide flow together,
do they ever fight for direction
do they ever struggle for strength
two different powers vying for dominance
two different forces pulling their weight
though they were never in control
they were never choosing the way
do they think they control their fate
do they argue with the compass
when they both gain strength
the dark, fast storm erupts
when one wants east and the other west
when they struggle for their will
the moon's pull is ever in control
the sun's direction the center
the earth's rotation the eternal ruler
why such arguments
why such judgements
they are never each in command
they are never in agreement
the storm will come