Do heroin and die
what is the point of existence
I feel itching boredom and futile loneliness
I know one day he will leave me too and what will I have left
why am I so empty inside
why has the warm candle light burnt out with a gust of wind
when will I reach the surface
and be able to breath again
I’ve been drowning for so long
I crave a deep exhale
Distraction from the numbness is the only way
painting pictures of a better life than is true
and we perpetuate our dreams onto others
ljving in a bubble of empty hope and ambitions
that never really go anywhere
sometimes it seems like the only thing that’s real
are the demons that chase me at night
and still I slip into silk and turn out the light
and live my life in the boxes that they’re comfortable with
passing the time
Looking through windows
wondering, contemplating freedom
liberation
a sequestered ember that resides
between the lines
I can see it in behind the twinkle in your eye
and the way you speak and carry your shoulders
there is something missing for you too
and I feel like the big Apple taken a bite out of
Praying for rain to wake me up from my dreams
tossed into the quiet sea
no one heard a sound as she made her way
to the depths
sirens search for me now
and I do too somehow
there will always be a lost ness and a found ness seeking each other out like hear seeking missiles or trains on a track
and it goes around
Even now
the stillness is processed and digested like an unspoken language
and as the silence is translated
she whispers to me
beautiful things
That take me away
and transport me
to.... discomfort
To rescue me from it
and push me over the edge again
the addictive cycle of abuse
she is torment
of the most clever disguise
and lingers in my breath
between the lines
I hope one day she gets lost
and never comes home
but we have no choice but to learn to live with
the things that live deep inside our bones
