Not Interested in Being Friends

Stop asking if he loves you back
if he felt like me you wouldn't have to ask

The pale walls I built into my stare
you would see if you actually cared.
I'd pressed against my lips an astounding silence
uncharacteristic of a man drunk in your presence
but it's fear that motivates this
you're drop dead gorgeous
and I can't take it
I can't get out my words not that I could find any anyway
wait! where are you going?
Please stay,
I need your gaze
Those eyes
Oh god, those eyes
I feel like I'm drowning
and I don't mind
I feel like I'm dying
and I don't mind

Dreams

In my dreams I'm dying all the time
Like I'm suffocating in each memory I hide

my mind is supposed to treat me right
but I'm so terrified of what I'll do tonight
when I close my eyes

Angry

I hope you second guess every one of your decisions
Questioning your motives, recognizing your dissension
I hope you give up on yourself like you gave up on me
Be forced to listen to the happiness seeping from your body
Can you tell that I'm a little angry?

I wish I could pull those days from my mind
let them sink into this sea of mine and die
Because it seems that I
can still draw your face from memory haunting the scenery in the back of every dream
stalking my periphery
I shouldn't bother stealing glances
but it's all that I have left
to contrast the innocence
I had before you went
Can you tell that I'm a little sad?

I just want to fuck you
or fuck off
depending on the day.

Labyrinth

Pressed against each cell wall, the sickening feeling of complacency overwhelms even the most mindless of nuclei. The flow seems controlled as if by some ultimate design that fell short of an ultimate purpose. Blueprints without words, a labyrinth is formed; but the problem with this labyrinth isn't getting lost. Each turn leads to an exit. There is always an end. Always the same end. Stark and unappealing, deceiving us into understanding.
A boy fights to enter the maze. He doesn't choose this fight characterized by the sudden surge of gas inflating the organs beneath his chest. Alive: He begins to sing as a crowd gathers but his tears mix with the atmosphere of his old world as it falls to the floor. It's stolen, but by who? He fought for this. This was His reward.

Years pass by beyond his perception. He masters speech, learns of fate, of choices and the effects of such mistakes. Each guides him further in. So many turns without meaningful direction until he finds himself staring blankly through a frost covered windshield. A realization surges past every membrane. A straight line. This facade he fought so hard for can end with a straight line. But as this thought festers in his gut, it struggles against a charge unseen before. Something within resists every connection between that thought's existence and the decision for action.
Six years the thought pushes from each corner of his meek form, silently prodding him closer and closer to the end, but still that resistance persists.

Linked Lists

Insanity:
It's Time to Say Goodbye
Can't You Hear
I Dreamt of the Past
Insanity

More to come when I'm less lazy...

It's Time to Say Goodbye

So, I have an unhealthy amount of pieces written about CMD (Crazy Man Disorder...lookitup).

It's Time to Say Goodbye
Who's talking to me? There's no one here
If they all had to leave, why are you still near?
You don't have a face, a body to shake
how do I get you to go? I don't need you around any more
You're a fictitious, malicious villain living in my head
I can't take it any more, I want you dead.

Does this make you happy? Yeah?
You must be crazy.
A Psychopath if you'd ask me. But you never do.

Whispers of lies
sever the contact
between my conscious
and my conscience

What have you done what have I done what have we done?
I don't deserve this.
I don't deserve you.
It's time for you to go.

Pressed against my lips

I have this memory of a story that never happened
and I can't control these thoughts I'm having
The shortness of breaths between misteps in my speech
I think it's your presence that makes me weak

I just keep coming back
with my nervous reactions
and my white boy dancing
and every friend of yours that kept clouding my passion
and trashing this state that I'm in
and the sin I imagine, pressed behind my lips
I wish this bliss exacted in my thought
but left distraught and lost
could be left in your trust
Where I know it'd be put to use

Late Night

Stuck inside a cardboard box
with nothing but the arms of clocks
weighing more with every tick
and I'm about to break

The vibrations from the truck
pollute my ever-present breathing
and I can hear the searing from a sun I've never found
We just keep moving


The sickness hits me like a hurricane
and lingers like its aftermath
While sundried afternoons kill the plants,

I laugh and laugh at every little image in my brain
before I realise how much it makes me look insane
I'm not, I swear I'm not
It's just that no one sees the world
we only breathe the air around us
trapped inside our little cubes
rely far too much on trust
and faith that we know.
We don't know
We don't know anything at all