in this room
where i had spent a lot of
mental suffering and
arguements with myself
about what better decisions
i could've made
if only i had been
wiser,
i'm having vague
negative thoughts
of ending my life
quickly without any
pain.
i stopped
for a moment
and asked myself
if this is were all my doings.
i don't know.
i can't feel myself making
any sense.
it's something that dies
in you.

when somebody dies in your life
you take a little sway
you dance like you’ve never danced
you obey desires of withdrawal
the sickness wins and the walls comes close
the average becomes over dramatic
and the awkward things becomes forbidden
the holidays turns into funerals
marches, parades never gets meaning so as
marriages, reunions, celebrations, vibrations, ejaculations
receding hairlines and frail weeks and years
the failure in your genes
the desperation in your eyes
the grasp for air
and the seriousness to continue
you lose it all
ran out of cigarette
will sleep dealing with withdrawal
the last stop
soon enough you die too
not too much
not too little
but enough to live and witness
how you lose the entirety of it all

lover, i am not sure if the name suits you today.
you are not the only one;
our encounters tastes like paper.

it's hard to admit once in a while,
i know.
remember i have a soul too.
i'm amazed to see you alright lover
for you are not the one who is getting smaller
every single day.

your overbearing will make me stop
if you don't stop.

the last song you’ve ever listen to,
the last conversation that took
until the first break of dawn,
the unnoticeable look in your grandfather,
the grip you hold
in the neck of the bottle
of beer,
the friday night drunk workers,
the batchmates
and their indifferent
futures,
the longest drags of cigarettes
in every corner of the streets
known to man,
the yearning desperations of
a widow,
ambitions of a drunk under
a street lamp,
the life you’re living,
it’s counterparts
and the main problem
of it:

god only favors
those whose lives
aren’t much different
than his.