alone in a smoking room.

there is life between my fingertips

and a hole in my heart

for a million seconds it is as if

i can hear beneath the silence

the trickle of light

escaping

with every swirl

of translucent

whispers

with every sigh i

outtake.

i find myself standing in a field

where no one can watch me

as i learn how to take

self-taught lessons

step by step

in healing motion.

i open my eyes

and put out the momentary hiss of

existence-

i am still alone but

reeking in a box of smoke

and feeling

indifference.

a journey to an end.

i wake up to bad dreams; i am trying to run away but i meet ten thousand obstacles in my ten thousand thoughts.

nightmares are like second nature to reality. i am driving towards a far away land and it is meant to be escape

mystical like secret windows and time warps but the smithereens of doubt tell me it is not -

this is stone cold reality swallowing me in.

i see an empty road filled with empty hopes and suddenly it is hard to breath, i am plunging forward with an

unpleasant speed. i leave a certain part of myself behind hoping that i can one day turn back and

recollect.

i hope to breathe in a militude of life and perhaps capture the beauty of cherishing heartbeats beneath my chest. i

take flight with a blank shard in me and for a second, i forget my name, drunk with a depression of slurred thoughts

and twisted guts inside of me.

let me fly.

set me free.

alone at 2.42

i like the feeling of bedsheets on my naked skin

lying coiled in self protection

in nothing but my underwear

where no one is watching

and no one can hear me breath, where

no one can hear me scream

i feel free

yet i feel

empty

like an abandonned house

filled with dangerous

unwanted spirits.

hand me a bucket of wet cement

before i crack again.

dead cells

i.

i found ways to let things

flutter and sink into peepholes of

silence

where thoughts barred away

can only glimpse at minds

they used to haunt.

but i forget how thoughts

can gnaw through the thickest skin

and knock me off balance as they

slither back in

as i try to heal.

i am left scraping for surface

as i drown with the piranhas

of my mind.

ii.

it is a blurred vision

fogged by disregard and

several attempts succeeded in moving

forward. but blurred visions

still hurt my eyes and

much more

because they paint pictures

of a past when i knew

i would one day be

where i am today.

i didn't try to stop

because nothing scared me more

than this happening much sooner;

because back then

i stopped counting on hopes

and forgot how to breath.

it is an eternal burn that leaves a hole

in your soul

when you finally gasp for air

and realize you are

immune to life.

iii.

there is nothing worse than movie finales

that do not leave significance

and that is why i wish for

a horrible ending

to contradict everything before

because the storyline would've at least

been worth going through.

but wishes are only for the lucky ones

even if they wish for disasters.

our ending was miniscule

compared to the ten thousand aches

and mental ills that grew beneath

the unsteady skin of my mind

leaving trails on the smooth of my wrist.

we would've been the worst film ever made

because nothing but the 'making of'

was worth enough

to go through what i did.

iv.

regret is a harsh word.

i use it all the time

when i think of how much

i could've changed

to better situations.

i will ponder until the word

is no longer a word

and scrapes into me like

rust, like fucking tasteless emotions.

v.

i am like the child

with down syndrome

the one everybody tries not to pity

yet are unable

to neglect the distortions

oozing from my body like gutter juice.

i learned from the best in lying

and now spend hours in front of the mirror

practising fake smiles

and enthusiastic expressions

just to bluff the world into believing

the mask is the truth.

i can travel alone to far away lands

and walk under lightning storms

without wincing

yet i shudder because of

certain, revisiting memories

and the ghost of what was once

watching the change i have inflicted

upon myself.

dah

It is a fault I live with

for falling in love,

a fault I take to bed and

hold onto for dear life.

I still count the many time I

stayed up wishing on

dead stars and blank

skies,

I flew with wings

without repair

believing miracles could

still save me.

It is a fault I carry like heavy sighs and

anchors stuck in

thickdirtymud

and it doesn't matter because

we are now gone.

It doesn't matter now that

things have

shattered

like pieces of me

and pieces of you.