F* ickle summer [and general] pass-time. Though you hardly
A cknowledge me, I meditate on the virtual probability of our
N on-existent romance, incessantly. Just as I make an effort to
A ttempt to bury you in a dark corner of my subconciousness, *you
T ext me! Once again giving me just enough attention so that I'm
I ndifferent to your self-centred, egoistic, promiscuous nature and
C ompletely falling for you instead, as I've done, since the day we first met.

I think too much
Is that why two years after you wanted to leave this earth
I still can’t get the thought of you collapsing out of my head
Why the idea of you alone in your room
At four in the morning, clambering out of bed
Deciding whether it’ll be a good night to give up your life
Is still in every thought I have, I dread
Those thoughts
The idea of my own future is too much to handle when I still worry you nearly didn’t have your own
I think too much

But were you thinking at all when you drowned yourself in pills
As if paracetemol was the answer
And death was the cure
I couldn’t bring you any closer
You had locked all the doors
But there were broken windows, cracked walls
And I should have seen through them
Maybe that is why I can’t sleep, because my doors are locked tight too.
I think too much
Maybe if I opened my house to you, you would have wiped your scarred feet
And your bony knees could have rested in the warmth of my bed
I would have held your hands for hours, my friend
I would have held them until you fell asleep
Until you didn’t have the energy to find the labelled bottles I still keep
Maybe- Maybe- I could have helped – I
I think too much

I still cry over you
I still cry for you
I feel the blood of your attempts on my own hands
As if they were clasped around your neck
I am not poetic enough
I’m no Lady Macbeth
But the guilt still plagues my skin when I now hug you hello
Because when you are suicidal
No best friend should not know
I think too much

I think about the sirens
Did I hear them that night when they rushed to your place?
Finding sixteen year old child, in her mother’s embrace
Was she crying?
I think about it all the time
Did you pray to the God you’re not sure you believe in?
Did you pray for the end or did you thank him for starting your heart again?
I think about it all the time
Would they have you cremated or buried?
Force you back into the ground before you even had a chance to grow out of it
Like clothes owned previously
Working class families
We bonded over hand me downs
And straps for cash to hold tight what we earned
Would they have dressed you like dolls you could never afford?
Pristine and price tagged
Between us girls, you never suited body bags
Your body shape is best suited to the rise and fall of your chest as you breathe
It does not suit a coffin
Are you finally coughing up the truth now?
The truth is you are alive
You are still alive

I think too much

You were always like a sister to me
And I know things are different now, and we’ve moved away, moved apart
But you still creep into my subconciousness
As if making up
for the two weeks before you told me you’d tried
“I wanted to die” You told me
And in that moment, so did I
It will never stop hurting to imagine it

You are eighteen now
You are beautiful
Smart
All the clichés
But just because something is said often, doesn’t make it untrue
People will never stop saying the words ‘I love you’
I think too much

And that’s why even now that I see you smile
And laugh
And your happiness is so genuine, so true
I still have this incredible, guilt weighing need to write an apology letter to you.
I still don’t think this is enough.
I guess I think too much.

Fallacious masks embodied with despondency and pessimism;
Darkened notions of subconciousness painted with an agglomeration of colours and shapes.
We are too naïve.
A plinth of porcelain holds an emptiness full of blasphemy,
As if it were an ornament of the prodigal son.
Our insides turn from white to crimson,
And the outside world maintains its tarnished brass colour,
Counterfeiting gold.
We are all covered in the inordinate dirt of our sins.
Wash your body well and let the blue lead you home.

Visions of a searing pain heading straight for you, the oblivious.
Noght terrors and pro f etic dreams tossed to the way side with all the other so-called profetic doomsday losers. As the sword of thought touches your neck youd rather slip into non resistant subconciousness. Weak and inward looking masses of babies ******* life into thier wants and screaming for attention. The world of touch offers no deliverance. It distracts the soul. It blocks compassion and feeds greed. Power stoked by the few torture and consume the masses as they are cyphened into a must do way of living. Wake up get your freedom back by denouncing all you have and walk into an outstreched hand and collect the trapped, downloaders of destruction and walj together  pay nothing use only what is fair and change the world. Disconnected from money and pain, enjoy true power and the gift of a simple life.

Is there a life within this life?
Every day, after my day job
all that's left of me
is a body demanding rest
just to get enough energy
for the same routine
in the following day.

I don't get out,
and I am limited in spending
the rest of my time
in nothingness.

I have blamed everything
enough that I couldn't
see the point
of blaming anymore.

I have ran out of resources
inside the corners of my brain
to explain myself or at least lay down
the right words
for effective deliverance.

I have tried so ******* people,
I have tried so hard for myself
and I don't believe that anything could possibly change anytime soon.

It's hard to be me
and no one's noticing it
except me in my own perspective.

I used to believe in friendship,
young age, positive thinking
but it seems
that the world around me
is showing quite the opposite.

What could be done?
Is there something out there
that could help me turn things
around, anything other than
the acceptance of the thought
that there is a God
who is omni present
and knows what I am
specifically going through
and that with all of his—
he'll save me?

I am in a part where
I am the only one left to talk to
about this, and for so many years
I have been with myself,
alone with myself,
I lost the capability
of remaining above
of where I am below of
right now.

I am not completely numb,
not yet I suppose
because I can still feel things
such as stress, restlessness,
anxiety and anything
that has nothing to do
with a healthy state of mind.

Also, I keep having these  
surreal subconcious thoughts
about running towards
speeding cars
and
jumping on high places
which a normal person
would never think of
but it's not really alarming,
for the average person
like me
who's
battering the body
against the ham
must also have their
subconciousness
begging for this timely
horrendous routine to stop
but I guess unemployment
would just cause us withdrawal.

Get it?

(I guess I don't know how to
distinguish the sound of
a normal person from
an average person)