Guided in silence
By a uniform of darkness,
With no bark and no bite,
Through back passages, kept hidden
By anonymity.
There’s discomfort between us both
For different reasons, though
A weight around my wrist
Anxiety builds my fists.
Le Jeu Commence.

Didn’t get a good night’s sleep
not hungry
minimal communication on the ride over
force a smile to check in
sit in silence
get called in; say I’m doing well
reciprocate the question
nerves, thinking of only one thing
tears suppressed, fear rings in my ears
oppressed myself, he asks how
the meds have been working.
A deep breath
a shaky exhale
“Horrible, it’s been way worse
black thoughts are back
a plan is in place:
keppra, lexapro, flexeril, and alcohol
don’t know if it would work,
hoped. Spent all last night
crying in dim light, clinging
onto the evolutionary desperation of living.
send me somewhere
isolated from life.”

It’s both a feeling and a lack of feeling
That’s why it’s black, not grey;
Both a color and a lack of color.

I can’t be conscious.
I can’t keep going.

I wake up in a daze
Still a little drunk,
Skunked, take a walk to take a ****,
Feeling like I’ve missed something,
The agony of the day begins.

Kicking myself over fictional sins
The sickly stench of solitude
Sweeps me into silence.
Too much caffeine to jog my mind
My body is nauseated already.
Steady hands left me long ago
Sorrow and saltwater is within my eyes.

I can’t be conscious.
I can’t keep going.

Black thoughts are my wife
Prolonged by life, the ultimate depressant.
Wasted days are ever present;
Not the exception, but the rule.

After nap time, slurp up the drool and
Go to kingdom Cruel where
No self-aware being escapes its own glare.
Thoughts are frantic and fragmented
A stagnant mind, fragile it finds
Relief in not thinking, to be found
In drinking Aristocrat. But it wears off too soon;
It’s a depressant they say
Have they forgotten about life?

Help! Help! The town is in peril!
Its beasts of burden are raw and feral.
They devour children with their hearts still thumping,
Parents are numb, stand by, and do nothing.

In the town square, the great council is hung,
Chaos, with its destructive war, has begun
By lighting the town’s clock tower on fire;
To serve as the town’s funeral pyre.

In the tower, people all tremble with fear
As fickle flames more fiercely move near.
With blurry eyes they unlatch the window’s clasp
And resign their fate away from the flames grasp.

From the flames, there is life
That’s filled with saltwater and strife.
From the air, we take our breaths
And choose the option of a quicker death.

I am the cat that Schrödinger hypothesized,
prophesied of, to be in the purgatory of existence.
This nightmare I've dreamt of
in every waking moment spent
on what feels like broken time;
I reel in my awoken apotheosis
into a devil's living hell.

He knows my speed
but not where I lie
that's wherein my danger lies.
Clasp the trunk
speak of triumph through my chaos.
My deeds are punished
though I receive nothing;
I believe it's time for me to leave,
on towards Bethlehem,
to watch my little demon be born.

Love sank its teeth,
ravaged the other with claws
sharpened by a wheel of raging passion.
Feel outside its cage to taste
iron blood from a punctured lung;
war chants rung out in rain,
each piercing of what Love once loved
by its talons, lets maroon map its path
through trampled grass. The other crawls
in unknown vain, no hope remains.
One love scavenges the other.

They ***** themselves out to the masses;
where clicks are turned tricks, and interaction occurs
by artificial means. Masses surf
where all seek self-worth, and the ******
double-dip into the streams
of admiration and pity.

The pimps tell them their worth;
whether worthless or the rising sun
that they like to capture.
They scream at their ****** till they cry;
hidden bruises caused by hands, obfuscated
compared to the victim's.
The Land of the Web:
where ****** are their own pimps.