The smoke licks my fingertips
as I light the cigar
a fix of nicotine on a bad day
a way to keep the bad thoughts at bay
A long pull fills my mouth
with a bitter taste of artificial grape
A low for me I guess you could call it
A hypocrite I guess you could call me

When you’re little, everyone thinks you’re special...
When you’re twenty, everyone thinks you’re promising...
And when you’re dead, everyone will love you.

Do you see yourself as successful?
Beautiful?
Charming, even?

Well, I see you dead in a bathtub...
Surrounded by drug paraphernalia.
I see your mother crying for you...
Syringe in her arm to take away pain.

Do you see yourself as a failure?
Disgusting?
Horrid, even?

Why, don’t think of yourself that way...
You’ll be alright.
There is no storm...
Just calm, just the eye...

When you’re little, they beat you.
When you’re twenty, you’re hopeless.
And when you’re dead, you’re saved.

Is the drive boring?
Tiring?
Numbing, even?

It’s okay, just fall asleep...
You’re not responsible anyway.
It’s fine, go to sleep...
You’ll be unresponsive, anyway.

When you’re low, it’s blue.
When you’re high, it’s full.
When you’re dead, you’ll finally be numb.

"If, to me, you’ll reach when low,"

Says the Spirit,

"I’ll help you grow."

"I love you!" He uttered with his low voice holding my hand in his hand.

It was 28 May 2019.

There’s a coffin buried inside of me,
Boxing the bones of a child.
Whispering a temptation to me,
Killing every part of me.
Creeping behind like a shadow,
That no longer belongs to me.
There is something here controlling me,
I am not alone in my own body.

Drop down a ******,
for me to climb into.
Open up my old womb,
And breathe life into the new.
Let me eat your human sacrifice,
So I can gain a new life.
Wash this evil beneath my skin,
So I can start all over again.

I am dying everyday
Slowly slipping away.
Sinking lower than low,
This is my new low.

When becoming happy feels like Nostalgia,
When there were good old days  
And now the present seems so boring.  
That's when you know you're going down.

What a feeling it is  
When you can feel bees buzzing inside your chest
And feel the stomach turning to stone
Your heart no more beats with an intention to keep you alive.  
That's when you know you're hollow
That's when you know you're going down.  

What a feeling it is
When you spend the whole day sitting  
And staring outside the window,
When you go to bed every night for sleeping  
But your eyes are wide awake.
That's when you know you're alone
That's when you know you're going down.  

- Ikigai Poet

This endless cycle of ups
This endless cycle of downs
Once it breaks you out of these cuffs
Only to realise, you're the only one that drowns

You sense movement in your tearducts
From time to time, it shocks as it's warm
Meaning to let you down with waves of floods
Overwhelming you, before you resort to harm

Letting your eyes cough once more
Eroding the sandman's architecture
Which of them was left by which sore?
You ask while once again you lose all texture

So the vicious cycle can begin again
Building up to another main event
Over and over and over, my friend
Just when the **** will this ******* end

Seemingly calming now, I thought
The sun looks to be shining on this lord of cinder
But I need to find another siren to float
The next will drag me down in a different manner
But if it goes as far as to hold me,
I don't think it will matter

I'm cold, can you help me?
Give me another chance to flee
To see this wasn't all for no reason
Tell me this knowledge will elevate me
Otherwise fall might be my favorite season

do not leave me with what could have been
with all of your
almost-maybe-somedays.

do not tell me that you’re sorry
and that you love me
and that you wish it didn’t have to be like this.

do not make me live in a world without you
do not make me have to drink coffee on my own.

put those pills down and pick up the phone.