You're my perfect little distraction
Not more, for there is no reaction
As you move on in your silly life;
I mean, I don't want to be your wife
Nor anything else tied to your name
For I am not yours nor will I be.
Just a game we play, just words, you see,
Your lips aren't kissable but I
Must confess, your mind I can't deny.
We toy with notions that we could gain
Something out of our bold flirtations
Yet it is all preoccupation
As we both bustle around, away
And keep other sentiments at bay
By clouding them with this silly game.

With no strings attached, none can judge us
And it's one act I don't have to trust.
I can take a deep breath, spill my thoughts
And leave unscathed when it all just rots.

does it really matter what I write in this box?
if it never makes a difference?

does it really matter what I have to say?
if no one really cares?

does it matter if I  write one poem or a million?
if they don't really mean anything?

does it really matter at all?

No.

because I'm just another shadow, wanting to be in the light.

I used to write for a reason
Now I just write to strew useless words
Information no one will probably ever
Read, my voice never again ever heard.

i'm so tired of meaningless conversations with meaningless people...
i'm so tired of meaningless kisses...
i'm so tired of meaninglessness...

can't i just invest my energy in one person that really deserves it,
rather than dividing myself to temporary flings
that don't even feed my soul?

I am becoming tired of these mundane words
That give nothing, take nothing, feel nothing.
I am becoming afraid of the way I can use them,
How harshly they hiss when I speak them,
How bleakly they twist when I write them,
How solemnly I worship them in my silent self.
For all their power, these words hold nothing.
I am starting to fear that they will soon be meaningless,
Even to myself.

Nostalgia hijacks unnecessarily
bleeding into a bloodless heart
where I feel peculiar
outside of my puppet body
the force dragging me to the next location
the next goal
the next unfulfilled dream.
I do not feel alive. I do not feel like I am breathing.
My stomach rises, but my hopes crash.
Every lock crunches together when I run into a bad thing
I shut myself off to protect myself
from an inevitable feeling that will not matter
once I'm beyond the earth
once I'm packed in a grave
and shipped off to the next meaningless life.

A universe and me.
The meaningless broken ideas of the world and me
No forever and me.
The end and me.

You who are the meaningless.
You without the breadcrumb trail to completion.
You of whom without, would not make any difference.
You, are but a thought.

Without hope, bound and held in rope.
Surviving within that straining rope.
Breaking, slicing and cutting the rope.
Hanged at noon in a noose made of rope.

A small kindness can’t sustain
A screaming, starving child.
One step at a time
Won’t bridge the distance
Between salvation and despair.

I click that button.
I like that you are running to beat cancer,
But you won’t.

The world boils and burns.
I won’t share anymore,
Because I don’t care anymore.