S
o
I                       I
hear                guess  
you're             I                    G
somewhere    should         o    
new --             have             away          H              
                        known         at                 o
                        you'd           some           w
                                             point.           s
                                                               ­   a
                                                            ­      d.

The Fall.

Trees out my window.
So barren and chipper.
As if I could almost taste the death.
Taste their eyes on my person.
Their wraithing edges.
Their aging systems welcoming like *****.
Splatters.
Across all fronts.
To conjure the oh so sweet milk of air.
The dusty platitude of forgiveness.
Sight the faces so smug.
So lucrative.
So tiny.
As the weaving sits bined.
And the yellowness unwindes.
Trees out my window stand gladly.


Garrett Johnson.

I have officially cleaned out any memory of you,
You can never take control of my room and make it blue.

I took my emotions and watched them burn,
Now what you're doing is none of my concern.

I feel so free but also so broken,
I almost wish your words remained unspoken.

I'll miss you but it's for the best,
Because if the room stayed, I'd be more depressed.

Why was I made to exist? To merely experience life through sorrowful eyes.

I drown so deep, I question all my feelings and try to make excuses as to why I feel a certain way.
Certain ways I don’t even understand.
If I was made to bring a revolution and change perception, then why should I **** myself just by doing so?
So empty and hollow, the wall has enclosed.
If I was born to be misunderstood, why is it so easy for me to understand and accept everyone else, even those who discredit me.

The voices in my twisted mind. Who are they? Are they real? Is it my intuition? Or is it intuition turned into nerve aching anxiety.
Writhing inside of me, eating every part of my disillusioned sanity.
If I seize to exist to help those who put me down and call me crazy, then why is it worth it?

If I could hang myself right now tight around the neck where I might snap my spine... why would it matter?
I’ve accepted being alone, being lonely is now contentment. Peace.
Drained by others negativity, pulling me down like strings by their problems.
If I was meant to show my true form, why is it that I live in different facades.
Questioning who I am every single ****** day.

I hear people constantly talk about me, in my mind.
Is it intuition? Or mere delusion.

I’m dead. Empty. My purpose in life is to physically die so I can finally go back to where I came from. Other dimensions where I truly belong.

Disentanglement, I lose myself in fear.

what has happened
I think I’ve lost touch
With reality
It can happen
I’ve lived enough
With tragedy

If we all bow our heads
To avoid what lies ahead
We’ll miss the good that comes our way
And be miserable instead

I think I’m giving up
I think I’ve had enough
Of this ****** up world and it’s lies
No I don’t think I’ll be alright

It’s time to go
And I don’t know
If Or when I will return
I hope in hell that I don’t burn

To those I’ve met
Please don’t forget
Me

Don’t forget the things I said
Please keep my memories

When I’m
Gone

Spotted Dust.

Side walk mistress.
To the curb.
Bile be the word for low and.
No high to leave with.




Garrett Johnson