Untitled.

Sad smiles through empty eyes.

The cold hearted touch of your lips on mine.

So where have you been tonight ?

Ten thousand tears couldn't drown these lies.

The demons on your shoulders will surely break your spine.

Untitled.

Keep breathing.

In and out.

Keep thinking.

Full of doubt.

Keep hurting.

It's all you know.

Keep loving.

And I wont go.

Rain, rain.

Rain, rain, go away.

Please leave my mind, just for today.

I need some room to think again.

Please leave my mind, just for today.

Sorrow.

Heavy hearts, heavy feet.

We walk alone down rain soaked streets.

We're in this together, we're playing for keeps.

These hearts still pound through pain filled beats.

Rise and fall.

Again and again and again.

Grin and bear it, smile and nod.

Constant disappointment, hurt, frustration, pain.

Rise and fall, like the tides.

Growing cold, giving up, severing ties.

This is for every kick in the face.

Every stab in the back.

Every heart thats forced to break.

We are nothing but a plague.

Why do we do this to ourselves ?

Growing cold, getting old, wasting time.

And this too shall pass.

' Every living creature on earth, dies alone. '

Quicksand.

Your shit-heap of a life suddenly feels like quicksand, surrounding you, engulfing you. It's so hard to  move, breathe, think. You want to change, but you hate change, change isn't stable, secure or permanent.  Constantly uneasy, forever anxious, always nervous. Nothing is right anymore, you're so head-fucked you can't decipher right from wrong, good from bad, yes from no. You're not okay, not anymore, barely eat, hardly sleep. You've taken the toll physically too, sunken eyes, hunched back, blank stare, empty smile. You hated everything you have now become. But you don't want to fix anything. This bed you have made yourself, after all these years, now seems somewhat comfortable. You're sick of feeling like a dog chasing it's tail... Not getting anywhere in life, constantly running in circles, never achieving anything. Now like that dog, you're tired, out of breath, and over the chase.

Vacancy.

You’re always hurting inside these days, feeling cold no matter how hot it gets, empty, alone, miserable. You manage to turn every emotion you feel into anger or pain, always questioning peoples movtives, wondering if anything anyone says is even genuine anymore. You can’t let yourself trust, love, laugh, smile…not without feeling guilty soon after, and doing a home run straight into the arms of misery once more. Its like your heart is constantly set on ‘break’, you find it hard to breathe at the best of times purely because you’re holding in tears, frustration or hate. No one to turn to, no one to lean on. It’s you against the world, without a hope in hell of ever changing for the better.

The last thing you want is sympathy, or pity. You don’t need either, you’re getting better at holding things…feelings in, hoping you wont get caught out and asked “what’s wrong” or “are you okay”. Everything is wrong, and you’re not okay, but the last thing you’re willing to do is open up…You’re not going to open up, even if you want to, you’ve learnt to bite your tongue, no matter how much it hurts. You know better than to trust in others, or to confide in people. That’s how you get hurt and these days you feel enough pain without being kicked in the face on top of it all. Consistantly wondering what death feels like, how hard it would be for it to come around and how long it will take before you lose the plot and draw the short straw.

Love lost.

I don’t know what i want, but it’s not in the shape of two, so from now on this is me without you. if home is where the heart is, i moved out long ago, and if “love conquers all” then why not send love to war? i’ve made my bed, dug my grave…etc, time to sleep. i am nothing in this world, it don’t owe me shit, the most i have done is managed to exist. i am a ghost, denying a being with purpose their rightful place in line. i have nothing left to offer you, love lost…story of my life. I no longer wish to struggle in the company of friends…what friends?…strangers. Time has taught me not to show weakness, but i have lost the will to remain strong, and weakness is not an ally i wish to befriend. My confidence has been eroded, the need to walk with my shoulders back and head held high is yet but another challenge, i have lost the desire to face future challenges. I’ll scuff my feet, and hunch my back. i’m leaving this place, with no intention of turning back.

Broken sleep.

1am, 2am, 3am, 4. Drifting in and out of consciousness. Thoughts racing through your head, thinking about anything and everything. Just close your eyes and switch off….sleep god dammit. Your eyelids are finally getting heavier. relief. Your head, heavy. sinks into the pillow. Thoughts slowing, like cars that have seen the amber traffic light preparing to stop. Eyes drooping, closing, heavy. Feels like only seconds have passed and again you are wide awake. This time, cold sweat beads along your brow, shoulders, down the arch of your back. You’re out of breath. Sheets wound clammily around your tired limbs, like cobwebs on the windowsill. Only in your dreams do these thoughts…memories, come to play. “its just a dream, it can’t really hurt you”…Can’t it ? too late, it already has. A nightmare, played out over and over again and you’re the main character. These memories lay dormant in the back of your head all day. Lingering, waiting for you to close your eyes, sleep. So they can erupt once more. As if to say “we’re back” …. Subconsciously. like a rapist,. Lurking in the shadows of an alley, seeking refuge between its dark walls. Waiting for his next victim…weak. You’re weak…..no. Yes…it’s just a fucking dream. Pull yourself together. But you know all too well its not ‘just a dream’. You’ve been that victim. You are that victim.

Hate.

Hate, the way its spreads through your body, consuming it, taking everything it can, like cancer. exhausting. but theres no chemo for it, no radiation treatment. nothing. it eats you from the inside out, until its all you know, a second home no matter how hard like the worst kind of chemical drug, you want to quit, but once you’re addicted, once you’re hooked, you can’t quit, doesn’t matter how it changes you, or hurts the people around you, its what you rely on most, like a crutch. stability. Eventually you turn cold, so cold it gives the illusion of warmth, and you like this feeling, even if you say you don’t you know its your fuel. comfort. the realization that this hate is what you come back to time and time again, like homing pigeons at nightfall. it protects you, like walls, tall, thick, strong, overwhelming. no doors, no windows, no bends or cracks. straight up and down. no one can break them down, not even you, not now. no matter the attempts, not trace of forced entry is left, no imprints or dents, nothing. But you like this, they don’t deserve to see how you feel, think how you think, know why you walk how you walk. and those who do, would know not to try and break down these walls, they would climb, thinking out a plan, or dig, blueprinting how and where they would shovel next, careful the soil wont cave in around them. “everything will be alright” they say.

no it wont, who the fuck are you to tell me what will and will not be alright ?

you know better then to think such optimistic bullshit; faith, fate, trust, hope…fuck it. you don’t need a false sense of security, you’re not stupid, you don’t need their rescuing, their prayers, nor do you want it…this hell burning inside of you is your home…home sweet fucking home.

Reflections.

Staring at the reflection in the mirror, empty, emotionless, thin. Who the fuck are you supposed to be? Consumed by a false sense of security, hope, fear, bitterness. Trying to piece together what the voices in your head are saying, its so faint, as if they speak in tongues…speak up. Not that anything said would be worth listening to, or taking in…would it? Expressionless, still staring, dull. No matter what angle the light hits your face from, or how your eyes flicker, still pale, sick, tired, drained. You look like you have one foot in the grave…oh if only. Losing focus…breathing, but you hardly feel alive…In and out….in and out. What if you could forget things as easily as you learn them, forget to talk, walk, breathe. Forget to breathe….or force the oxygen from your lungs. You wouldn’t….coward.

The city in the sea.

The only hope i have, is that of this godforsaken city, falling into the sea. Like a ship, destroyed, sinking rapidly. Taking everything and everyone with it. The ocean swallowing the ship…this city, like a greedy king at a banquet, devouring the feast before him. If I were to have it my way, there would be no survivors, no one to tell the tale….’dead men tell no tales’ and so on. Nothing…no one left. As if this hell on earth had never existed. The city in the sea, as dead and as cold as the people who had created it.

To be or not to be.

You feel your so called ‘life’ inside you, heavy like a bad meal and once more you’re crying…oh god…but there is no god, no beauty, no truth, no rest. Sleep is a lover which refuses to be touched, and you only know how to kill the things you love…”nevermore croaked the raven”…you’ve been dead for years. But who can judge another man’s suffering ? Even if you were to confide in another being, they could never know what you have suffered or understand the depths of your despair, and even if they did, they couldn’t go there with you, they can’t follow you the rest of the way, even if they wanted to. So now you think “i accept you, demon”…your demon, your suffering, your despair. Death dressed as a lover, caressing you, promising you peace. “To be or not to be”…it’s the only question really, zero or one, accept or reject.