Ominous.

i stand alone engulfed in phyrric victories, and drowned in hearsay. while she relentlessly reminds me that i rest on her bosom,

And while no one plans to sleep out in the gutter, sometimes it just is the most comfortable place.

it is true, when you find you open your eyes to the ominous milieu, you taste the asphalt that had been forced upon your face. the impression the gravel left on your skin no touch of tolerance. inhaling the fumes left by the hatred and death dealings of many a cadaver. the rotting of the clear air and no rays of sunlight to replenish the flora that had already withered reflecting the feelings that have stung my insides for decades. and decades to come. but all of this found only inside the skull of a troubled mind and the gutter is laid out as planned to become home. as sanctuary for the nights that a blanket might protect from the icy wind, but would prove ineffectual; as the bones were sore and the material flesh numb from the pain. screaming inside my mind for an escape.

You're an echo vibrating off the tiled walls.

and like it i am empty and hollow. but the echoes have been quick in return as the walls have been boxing me in. closing in on my lifeless carapace when i slumber lost in whirlwinds of thought that derail me from my sanity. do you really wish to sit there so calmly and watch me twitch in my sleep? do you really wish to see me shiver and drench myself in cold sweat? do you really wish to hold my hand through this ordeal i have willed myself into surviving? and then she whispers into my ear,

I know the stillness of your emotions will shine through and the faithlessness in your eyes will glow under the stage lights and you do not belong in the spew of predetermined lines.

yes she pierces my unconsciousness and i hear her ever so clearly. her confidence in my non-existent courage has seen me overcome countless hurdles. yet i am confused as to the reason why. why do you bruise yourself and forcefully blind your sight when you feel the roughness of my palms and you know of my past misconceptions? and you adamantly pardon my naiveté? why?

Everything you do is a self-portrait. There are times it might look like St. George and the Dragon or The Rape of the Sabine Women but the words you use, they are all you.

i do not doubt thee, but your judgment.

and yet i only seek the exchange of thy love's faithful vow for mine.

Watch me fade away.

Where are your eyes in your reflection?

from everything you have done for yourself; now you neglect the self, doing everything for you. or her. stains of metaphors form rivers of nakedness. cold and awful it must seem to the sender. but the receiver cowers behind walls of hurt that form new barriers that supposedly prevent more decadence and damage. recall those who shower merciless rage upon you and it will be easy. pick yourself up and dust off the webs of confusion. clarity is not a myth, but it remains a place of half-truths. hurt yourself and even friends with wings will not grace your presence. concrete in your veins did not form for no reason, you bastard. it is time death seeks you for the whore that you have become. do not speak of fairness and penance. you deserve none and you have paid enough. just leave,

your absence is needed. or is it?

when you explicitly express lies that i submit to. when every letter and word replicate hailstones upon glass windows of my weakly built domain. this stoic persona will always remain, but the interior walls have been cracked and the repairs that have been painted over are decaying with every straying thought. pressure is what it is. the underlying meaning of every time you hurled verbal abuse at the mirror trying to force an answer out of the reflection. the depression was minimal, now form a crater of a magnitude to house the built up tension.

i am always alone in this misery you shower upon me.

watch me fade away. every moment away from you i had spent sitting in that corner toying with the sickness that surrounds me. i insist on wallowing in the vagaries that i have purposefully chosen. naively obfuscating afraid to reach the expiration that has become of your carapace. so long i have depended on your affluence that now i waste away, ungracefully.

yes, i am guilty of dalliance.

fucking kill me. please.

Superfluous.

it is the rain that pours down to the sound of melancholic misery. the droplets riddled with blank expressions from the despair that emanates from the ground. each calculated fall hits the dreams of many a disturbed cadaver. and yet i seek refuge here away from the incessant mornings and nights. deluge of galleries are built to house the pointless words that litter the wispy clouds.

it is to make believe we are perfect.

spinning around the same speeches of apparent intellects that do not matter and do no good. and when you find the pinnacle of such behaviour, there is no surprise when people pander. to demise. to exploitation. knife me in and watch the writhing with intent as the blades of grass die from the spill of pandemonic perception. while faceless laughter echo into the depressions of whom it may concern, clinging onto the crutches hoping to live longer and bigger.

sick and deprived of my fear, sleep again.

and again i have fallen upon asphyxiation when questioned over and over again, why. Open wrists bleed profusely for malpractice of thought. Junctions crossed have become dim and the lunatic shivers a whole new meaning. attempting desperately to smother the learning of revolution. the multiplicit nature of tears cause them to be deemed expendable. nobody hears you moan like a whore and your supposed wounds no result of hate.

do you recall the veins that were severed in silence and the cries of wanting to be heard?

there is no apparent end to this madness and the cultural conditioning is wasted as the signs are not read anyway. you must have been tearing the clones down as you stand next to all the other rats. masses of late replies weigh down the hands. everywhere a wheezing cough completes the birth cycle as it revolves with much less. the alleged evolution of humility.

We have yet to see it.

just as we hoped for more of less, we are trapped stalking the ground forever fragmenting whatever life left in the core. the crescent shaped dams block the real flow of the elements that mirror bursts of epiphany. sway now towards the salvation that is escape. pull the pin and bite down hard to cleanse the sin. i remain, after all this, the anomie in this anomaly.

Lies. Time is up.

the leaves of my plants look like claws in the shadows
i lie on the bed waiting for them to tear my flesh
wanting to bleed my way through to epiphany
yet the waiting, is much more of hell than i have experienced

the darkness of the eyes is one of few
yet my creativity has conjured up more than i can suffer
the societal markers chisel me into one of lacking
one who doubts himself over the tiniest of details

i look into the reflection of my own eyes and see despair
a falling person whom i am unable to reach
a person drowning in the black waters of my hatred
trying to save what is left of my accepted intelligence

yes. accepted. not by me. by my inability to everyone else
i cannot bring myself to endure such low levels of capacity
i possess none that is desired and desire what no one can offer
i am not ahead in my own time and severely lagging behind

i am sick and tired of the various masks i feel i need to wear
the endless beautifying of myself to lie to everyone else
the rapid changes in my literal abilities to suit needs
to hold myself responsible for deeds i need not fulfill

i do not love myself enough to accept my fucking flaws
i do not hate myself enough to slit my wrists to taste my blood
i do not love myself enough to access the inner god i know i posses
i do not hate myself enough to have the courage to love myself

caught in between this nothingness is worse than being me
worse than this desolation i visit every night with open eyes
decaying, not physically, but everything else is
turning a blind eye to the fact that this is happening

forcefully lying to myself. to lie even more about myself.

to myself.

clock chimes can be heard.
time for redemption is over.

time to let the steel taste my flesh.

Failure.

your obsession with tears will be the death of me my love. for i am comfort as best as i could be. come sleep in my arms and let your tears tell the stories that you have mashed up in your saturated mind. i am there my love, watch the candles flicker as i walk past your aura to settle in a corner, studying your omnipresent emotions. be my comfort as you hum a familiar tune that will prove serenity true to me. why do you deny me the walk down the road you so often visit?

why do you so selfishly suffer alone? let me slit my wrists for my blood to be the stream that you will float upon to liberate you of your worst nightmares. drift through the black night that will drown you fears and let it be known that i mean for only you to live through this life i have created. all i ask for is those hands that caressed me to the deep slumber i awoke from. those hands that touched my skin in my times of needs and acceptance. those hands that were damp from my tears that dropped from my deepest depths of misery. but you have hurt those hands and the blisters are from the vengeance of many. No my love. leave thy hands to heal. for thou shall not damage that which is my only hope of transcending this societal hell that is post modernity. No my love. Not now. Not ever.

why would you bring this confused state upon me? the little pleasures that prolonged the timeline in which we endured less and less of them as we progressed towards the future that was always bleak. sharing similarities with our thoughts and thoughts about similarities between the parallel lines that resembled us. why now my love? do you leave to relieve me of my pain, or yours? do you leave to make certain the views of the faceless that we would not be? do you leave to make certain the lies and deceit i feared when you were material? no i cannot forgive you. the roses that i planted so meticulously to grow to the contours of your countenance now wither away without your sustenance. you have killed my roses that bloomed only on my command to your walking past my area of rest. now they rest forever, not able to give off the velvet scent that filled my sanctuary. the luscious petals have fallen to the ground lifeless.

you have failed me. so miserably.

the void i turn to when i am alone, told me the truth.

you have failed me, because i have failed you.