My thoughts stopped visiting my brain.
My imagination got lost somewhere in the infinity of my aloneness but I don't feel loneliness.
I'm a walking comatose and I feel so futile, so deterrent of myself.
But I guess these feelings are inevitable.
Maybe I'm too afraid to sit in a sail boat without a paddle and drift into the sea.
Maybe the circumspec of my cowardliness, has dived so deep into the depths of mind.
I don't feel alive, I don't feel alone,
I don't feel numb anymore.
I used to believe that pain was the God of life.
For if pain didn't exist, I wouldn't know what being alive meant.
Not even if it shrunk into a tiny razor blade and cut an entrance on scars or scabs on my body.
To rediscover past wounds and lessons learned.
Just to make me feel humility or little more human.
Maybe I'm just caught in between that moment before unconsciousness strikes.
When the lack of oxygen slowly expires.
As you gasp for air and grasp for something to breath life back into your soul again.

You were talking in your sleep again.
Finally admitted your mistakes but it's too late.
I'm awake laying in bed, the waters rising, my pillows wet.
Where did all this water come from?
You spoke late night diatribes, sweet nothings and the waters up to my ears.
I can't hear ****, the waters rising again.
I'm staring at the ceiling and it took form of scarlet, vanillas skies.
I'm almost underwater now, my lips, and the tip of my nose are touching the surface.
My visions a blur, I'm drowning alive.
I finally figured out the origin of the artificial forming body of water in my room.
All this water is coming from you, from the leakage in your mouth, truth saliva.
Your somniloquy song usually last thirty seconds.
I guess, the only time you can speak honesty, is when you're sleep talking.

I can taste your breath
merged with my smoke
as I inhale to capture
the last wind
that was taken from me

& now I watch you dance away


Copy Right 2020
©PoeticPat

He does not remember paying for my love,

I have the half ripped down the middle
tear smeared receipt
in my hand
as we speak



Copy Right 2020
©PoeticPat