I keep spinning and spinning
and just waiting to crash;
always fried up and dried up
one day my body will turn to ash.
I run on nothing --
in me the sound of emptiness ticks.
Like a clock without parts
I feel damaged, I feel sick.
I keep moving, keep workin
but feel nothing anymore,
Like a clock without parts
I am numb at the core.
No changing, no stopping
No relieving this pain
I am empty, I am alone
And going insane.

Some days, I am simply encapsulated by nature.
The tree’s vivid green branches
And the etched pinecones lay fallen near.
The brisk, sharp wind fills up my lungs
As if I’m breathing in a new life,
To remind me that beauty is alive.

Other days, I am targeted by emptiness,
And my head rings with an overwhelming numbness.
The dryness of my skin threating to chip away
The only thing of depression keeping my gravity down
And I feel like giving it all up.

But I will fight for those “some days.”

The most bittersweet thing I’ve gotten from life is that I understand my worth, yet I still want to die.

Drowning in the Memories
Of sadness and pain,
Growth and progress sprout up
Intertwining with beauty.
I cast off the thunder cloud
And finally take a deep breath in and — air.
The rain dissipates simultaneously with my addictions,
Oxygen floods my veins
And I am awake, I feel alive.

I feel drained, empty on gas.
There is no more adrenaline in me
To push the pedal forward,
To feel the surge of energy in my veins
As my speed rises up, up the odometer.
I am coasting,
Stuck at thirty-five miles per hour,
Flattening my foot down
In an attempt to feel a rush,
Yet remaining the same as before
At thirty-five miles per hour.
Should I turn to the nearest guardrail?
Stop completely and give up?
I am afraid they will revive me,
And I will continue on
At thirty-five miles per hour.
Now stuck knowing,
That there is nothing I can do
To change my course.

Humming through my bones,
This world’s bitter end.