Bewildered in my own dissolution
Never thought It would come to this
As I stare down the barrel of the past 22 years
I can’t seem to find myself to be missed

For so long I have laid
Scattered like a sheet
Like a ghost throughout the hallways
No eyes to ever meet

How much my soul has lust after
She who is not mine
A friend to call upon
In the darkest of my nights

For there is no escape in this entrapment
Which binds me to the bed
Forced to sit and watch others enjoy their pleasantries
While alone in this room I have bled

As I hold out for what may not appear
Gripping on to the edge for I feel it so near
I wait for the sweet caress of the morning to come
Only to arrive at blackening of my very soul

What I begin to lack in empathy
I make up for in shame
So much this has taken out of me
There’s so much I wish to say

As I sit alone in misery
Watching my youth slowly fade
What he gives  
He in turn takes away

For the world has been so callus
Never is anything free
What it rips from your hands
It only replaces with its vile deceit
Nothing more do I want from it
For so long it has remained the same
Take me away from it all
Release me from this state

I lost the sincerity in my eyes.
A long time.
I spat the fire out,
Replaced with a fjord.
A glacier cut mountain hole.
Shake and fake trembling.
I killed a little boy in my head
Using logic as a razor to cut his throat and sever his spine till all the jelly in it spill.
Replace with a steel core.
Unmoving.
Brittle, albeit,
Courser skin.
Less heart,
And more dead.
Cadaveric,
No love inside.
Only abhorrence,
For every single existent existence.

But I got girls.
What's that helped me.
Continuation of cycles of self-deprecation.
Grew roots,
Spread limbs,
But cut the phloem out.

Bleed the ******* sap.

there is a vastness here

where a small breeze,

the size of a decaying sorrow

wakes the cold again

which may be all that’s left of me.

where a diamond pale haze of stars goes on eternal

like sound that has found a final silent shape

on a black sky where it means everything

It cannot speak off.

it’s empty out here, and cold.

cold enough to reconcile

the frozen cries, the kidnapped voices

and the silences that move

with certain cadaveric contractions

along the frozen emptiness

and In the morning when I look out

the previous evening remains

in its blank, cold, unforgiveness

even though I sang for them in

the eternal extensiveness of

the freezing cold, the stones

still cry with mouths opened wide

while the small icy wind and unsympathetic

moon subdue the apricot flowers,

Now the piercing cold day Is no longer enough

For all comprehension escapes me

suddenly jumps with fury hurling terrible hostilities to the sky,

as wandering ice spirits without homeland

begin to groan with a vast and vacant voice.

And frozen hearses, with muffled drums

and tragic music, slowly pass in my being

conquered, weeping, freezing

this atrocious iced and despotic place

plants its black flag in my soul

Now I do confess through boreal breath

I don’t think I will ever see the

Red Tulips again

Dancing and jiving to the sound of the heart monitor in the back
Your seizing like a seizure and im beating like a heart attack
Grandma's dead
Dad shot her in the head and we’re
Drinkin and dancin tonight
I feel FINE
And we can slide through the slick halls
Flirtin with the white walls
and sign that everythings always alrigh
****** all up in her feeding tube,
Take a shot of anesthesia every time she makes a Cadaveric move
Yeah grandmas livin it up tonight
Now we’ll moonwalk into a birthing center just to step to those jarring screams
You've got syringe glass in your hair. I'm sitting in the doctor's chair. Yeah, I'm dancing with the girl of my fever dreams!!!
spike the ceyline bags with laughing gas, its so funny. not knee slapping funny just so funny.
We’ll have a disco party in the medicare
Weave some new bath towel from fallen cancer hair
Yeah this ***** getting crazy and i'm with you
**** who are you?

I look around at the truly decimated world, beyond a mysterious veil of benightedness.
The trees are cadaveric with shriveled appendages hanging on by simple stitching.
A heavy mist stretches over the streets of vacant homes like webs of great spiders.
Then the sky…

The sky remains grey like the eye of a winter’s storm,
Calm.
Ashes from the wings of burnt angels list slowly to the ground like snow.
Then the angels fall with a sudden fleshy thump of an ending.

Their screams as they fall are the only sound resonating besides the wind in my ear,
Whispering.
“You killed them.”
“Do you hear them screaming?”

“Are you deaf?”

I swear,
I hear them but can do nothing.
Burning innocence is simply – the nature of man.
Who am I to douse these flames?