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
with every swirl
of translucent

with every sigh i

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

i am still alone but
reeking in a box of smoke
and feeling

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


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
like an abandonned house
filled with dangerous
unwanted spirits.

hand me a bucket of wet cement
before i crack again.

dead cells


i found ways to let things
flutter and sink into peepholes of
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.


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.


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.


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.


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.


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
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

and it doesn't matter because
we are now gone.
It doesn't matter now that
things have
like pieces of me
and pieces of you.