Tis a nightmare, to think and then sleep, and sleep yet still think.
    Voices from the past echo in endless black at the back of my eyelids, the chasms of my mind showing me there are many things worse than death. Oh yes, by a thousand fold.
   I fall into the darkness, like lead weighs me down. I can't breathe, yet, I can still think, I die a thousand deaths, and yet, I can still think..

   But
     I
  can't
    do
     a
thing.

    The questions my dreams beg for me to answer make me ever restless, the answers heavenbound, as I

sink

sink

sink


into the abyss.

the mind is terrible
thing to waste
one day at a time

she pours all of her time and effort into a guy who is foreign to the thought of love,
deeply rooted lays the never given,
he was never shown love,
what could possibly, make him give it?
she is upset all of the time,
probably cause’ daddy is absent and doesn’t bother to call either,
she rides the rollercoaster of life,
by “getting by”, searching for love in guys like him.
he likes her, but refuses to pronounce the words of his love,
too cold to show it,
leaves her to feel drowned out,
she is broken down, but still calls out for him,
her yearning drives him to be consumed by the tidal wave of love,
in the end, he and she are found washed ashore.
what do you call this?

you know I’m complicated
always made you frustrated
you never got wasted
instead love is what you gifted

What
         A
            Waste
They say looking down their noses.
She used to be so skinny.
Pretty even, all those moons ago.
See
      Her
             Now
Fat, lonely, and ashamed of herself.
Her humanity disappearing with every bite.
No one could love her... not a pig like her.

Unsatisfied
and waiting
much too long,
my stomach growling
much too loud
for a belly full of something.
I'd tell you what if I knew,
but I don't.
I imagine if I did,
I'd be sitting around
wasting my time
with that,
instead of sitting around
wasting my time
with this.

Call it a necklace, noose, lead or leash
that we willfully wear
as under the poke and ****
of societies brand we still let it steer.

Living for Friday Saturday and *Sinday
throwing rain at the clouds
while we let time trickle away wastefully
out the hour Glass.

But when going against the grain
is like running into a sand storm,
we would rather let the days die
like they weren't worth remembering

Like a vapour, memories fade away
In a clumping mass of evaporating
                                                     ­      grey

                                  Then

call me a fool for standing in a sand storm
traping trickling time
in the hour glass
faster than it falls as I make
Many more colorful memories.

Gaze as I turn the dam ocean upside down
Repouring the rain I caught into the clouds
As I burn the tie
fray the noose
   loosen the lead
leave the leash round societies neck
And I burn it with my own brand.