So this is life?
This is the great mystery?
When every day is so predictably painful that I see no point in waking again?

What have they told you? That life isn’t fair? They know not the half of it.

Voices. Voices whose mouthes I cannot find speak to me, they speak my mind, my mind, my mind will not stay it’s breath, oh why won’t it let me be?! I cannot think clearly for these clouds of despair block my vision to a brighter tomorrow that they say exists out there.

With every day the same tragedy and the memory of what I used to be
Paired with the vision of what is to become of me and you still wonder why I wish to take my life?

When the only times i can breathe are the ones I’m breathing smoke and the only times I can drink are when the water is little you still wonder why I strive for escape? I’ll tell you why

Because I found god. He was hiding at the bottom of a bottle, the end of a blunt. The edge of a razor and the knot of a rope, god was there giving me hope. Hope that this life would end and that there was no sun tomorrow for the sun cannot shine if tomorrow never comes.

The scars. The scars of a million fevered thoughts, a thousand hateful words, and just a few sharp knives. They branded me a freak so now I save them the trouble. They need not say the words for they are carved in my skin. So thin their perception of another’s pain and experience.

Those marks, those letters, those permanent reminders of what I’ve done, may fade with time but will never truly be gone, they are a part of me, for now and eternity, forever a failure

Pain, like lava flowing through my body, weaving in and out of my veins. It plagues my days with hours of anguish and with no cure to help relinquish it I succumb to my condition. I sit and weep while my body is crippled, unable to do even the simplest of tasks. Yet it keeps me alive, for in some sick twisted way, it lets me know I’m still here today. I’d rather feel pain than nothing at all, because pain keeps me sane, the raw sensation lets me know I still exist.

With late nights and futile strifes to find meaning in this life I find myself
confounded and confronted by the hell of life and black of death. I ponder how truly worthy tomorrow is of coming. I contemplate running somewhere far away where they will never find me and I can be at peace finally.

I try to write but my pen runs dry. I try to see but there is no sky. I try to sing but my voice is lost. I try to think but my mind grows hazy. They think I have gone mad, absolutely crazy and that medicine and therapy will cure me of insanity but I insist it will not! Nothing can cure me. No god nor king nor man nor thing could save me from the hell morning brings so I sit here in silence.

So this is life? A wonder to behold? Let me be concise. A mystery unfolded. I did not ask to be alive it was simply put on me. I did not want to persevere the burden was placed upon me. I did not want to love or hate or feel anything at all. So why is it such a sin to want to end the squall?

Even now with life on track, I can’t seem to help but look back on where I’ve been and see the future that past brings. There is no life for someone like me, there is no help for my psychopathy and yet still I meander on. Hoping for that day they say will come but never truly believing in anything. Not myself not a god or cause, nor friends or family or laws or tomorrow or today, not yesterday or any day I believe in naught.

Bottles, pills, drugs and thrills shine bright in a world of dark
They say I should stop, they mark me as a delinquent child of his own makings, with no real flaws just make believings that he is depressed

Is that not real too? Am I a fool to you or are you truly as wise as the lies you spew in my face? I know who I am, you haven’t a clue, you have no idea what I’ve been through do you? The drugs, the booze, the losing my mind to a world consumed by greed and privilege? You had no clue I was in any of it? Of course not. It’s hard to see the ground with your head in the clouds and the when the world is your oyster. If you’d look closer you’d see what I do. I’ll take you through it.

Nothing. You’d see nothing. Every thing you value turned to dust. Money, power, food and showers and simple flowers turn black against a void where no light may escape. You’ll find me there, the horizon of infinity, watching the world speed in front of me as I fall into a singularity of self pity and misery while you never see me fully disappear. That is my so called life. So continue telling me what I need to be and where I need to go. Your words fall on deaf ears and I should probably let you know that your wisdom is lost on this ones soul. So, continue living in your fantasy world, and ignore me as I burrow myself in to this cold hell of existence you call life.