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.

welcome to the apocalypse

Decay in my mind
I am searching for distance but
things that are
unreachable takes effort to
touch
unwanted desires
that are unthinkable
unbelievable

I want to separate from this
but things attached
takes pain to tear apart
like skin and
bones like emotions like
life

I want to be gone
when the world collapses
so I will not be just
another segment of debris
clawing to be found.

Death is a bitter taste I can't spit out
nor swallow in
to the pit of my thoughts.

breathing

the pain recollects behind my eyes

and waste away;

frozen tears for somebody undeserving

of the extent

of intense emotions i puke out

for you.

i read poetry similar to mine

and feel the sharp of your memory

stick into places tender from

abandonment;

a heart i refused to touch

ever since you failed to fix

but succeeded in tearing it

into a project of your own;

lungs i have forgotten to care for

but merely fill with choked up

feelings clinging to smoke and

filth.

i intended to numb the bitter wounds

ripping apart with every breath

but the sickly cluster of your

shameless words and

everything else i swallowed

still burn me like

a rotten carcass.

there are still days when i ponder on

alternatives

to this mess i built as

protection,

and figure out

no matter what i choose

i am still

already gone.

and so are you.

world records

there is a clamp in my head

tightening for what seemed like weeks

and will continue for remaining days

until i reach the second my heart and soul

turns one year old.

it feels like an egg cracking, these

unwanted, murky, irksome feelings

leaking through me

spilled and unable to fix

as the day edges closer

and closer

and closer

like reverse, a reverse effect back to

when i died and was reborn

as nothing; a blank paper, torn and crumpled.

one year ago.

-

feels like quite a while now,

many things i have forgotten beyond

that night

except the incidents that led me

to living this new, semi-unwanted life.

recycled.

i partially enjoy it

the new lengths i push myself through

measuring how hard my cover is

and the lowest temperature of my heart;

the many times i can look at my arm

without crumbling.

-

i took a huge risk allowing the wounds

to be wiped clean

knowing from then on,

they will never heal, dirty as ever,

and will never heal

and i could no longer live the way i did

because i woke up the next morning

with no recognition of life

and its definitions.

i started from scratch

without a purpose or a scrape of hope

screaming for some incomprehensible need;

no one understands the language

of a newborn.

one year ago.

-

i am breaking my own world record by:

:testing my limits.

:raging multiple wars within myself.

it was always a war between peace of mind and pain,

but fighting for peace never really works, even in the news.

:lastly, having two birthdays to celebrate.

one for my life and

one for the loss of it.

the city is hollow

back to a coldness where

lights shine empty

and stars are replaced by the

clog of smoke

and empty air

where things remain choked

and there is no place for release

no wind to chill and

excite

no trace of freedom

no space to breath

nowhere to claim eternity

i stare out at blocks of

man-made construction

material things

we can lose

scents that pass

and never linger

prodding like painful memories

it is a city of

reality

no place for dreams and

no place for somebody

like me

Three Cigarettes

i get scared. my lungs

clog up

and i forget how to breath

for a second.

moments when i wake from

hiding the small of you

and your inflictions that taste

permanent

pretending i am finally

finally

finally-

it all aches again

i forget to look at the time

because the date looks

foreign

and unexpected.

knowing everything is moving fast

whilst i am too slow

is no comfort,

reminding me again

of how i have forgotten

how to press play

after i had paused

at the scary part

to refrain from screaming.

it hurts to see new faces

replace what was once-

it hurts to see everything

go

but i.

me and my forever memories.

it was like somebody else

tried to move on for me,

branching out a whole new world

before my eyes

when i still had them shut,

to hide

to protect myself from

the accidental babies of my mind

that will never grow me

a new life.