Dark, unfiltered devastating unrealfulness wallows in my mind, treacherous thoughts of every kind, I snatch at them in the air, at first in despair then just for the flair, they jump and bounce, triple and pounce weighted in balances for ounce. They slide and creep my mind they try to keep away from itself, listen to me they say, listen to me. Forget about me, the reason to be, the reason to stay. Sip in this poison and let it sway. Sip in this poison, let the pain go away. Looked through the glasssed bottom and let it lay. Go to sleep, theres another day. Wake up, drink this poison, let it sway. Drink this poison go to sleep let it sway. All this thoughts will go away. In this liquid, so sweet and strong, no wrong is right, no right is wrong.

Kite in flight

Deep and dark are the holes made by rabbits in the seek of a permanent refugee; the mind sometimes feels no longer safe in constant disparity, round and round it seeks the ground no longer bound by its roots but rather by its feet, often led astray made to creep, reconstructed maybe even deconstructed to take the pieces apart reworked to a different work of art not a melting clock, not a ship mooring in its dock; A kite taking flight feeling shiny and bright as the lights reflects the evil deflects caught in its unending spiral breaking out of its constant winds willing wanting of new currents, faced by old torments reduced to thoughtful excrements in a circle that never ends but changes brought to life by new faces.

Sometimes, Often

Sometimes I feel like substance is missing in my life. Often I feel this. I feel like I've cherished too few memories, times lost among a sea of things I'd rather forget. Disappointment after disappointment drown me into a pointless indulgence of self-pity where expression of the negative is both a temptation and a dampener, a relief but selfish,  strength in words but a weakness in the heart. 

Sometimes I feel like substance is missing in my life. Often I feel this. I feel like friends come and go, but few are the ones who stay. I feel like they remember my face, but don't remember me at all. I feel like they've moved on, but I'm still back here, somehow. I feel like I've moved on, and I'm not here at all.

Sometimes I feel like substance is missing in my life. Often I feel this. I feel like every day is just another step on an imaginary ladder with no second floor. I feel like I'll come home, and nobody will open the door. I feel like I'll cry but nobody will see my tears. I feel like I'll go deaf with my own screams, but nobody will check my ears. I feel like my blood will leave messages on the walls, but not even a passer by will read it. I feel like I'll drown in it and still keep breathing. 

Sometimes I feel like substance is missing in my life. Often I feel this. I tried picturing my funeral; It was silent. Nobody spoke a word. Nobody cried. Nobody cared. Dressed in black, feeling the clock tick, silence so thick, you could hear a heartbeat. Faces covered, not to hide the pain, but the disdain and the misery of mourning someone you won't miss. Veil's covering faces that do not wallow in guilty, but apathy.

Sometimes I feel like substance is missing in my life. Often I feel this.

Sometimes I feel like I am missing in my life. Often my substance feels this. 

Devil in Me

I have a devil inside me,
It does not seek redemption,
It does not seek forgival or to make it all right.
I have a devil inside me and it seeks destruction and havoc,
martyrdom for those whom created it.
Lock it down, in the deepest dark corner and it will consume you,
but let it reign free and you will know me.