The Other Side

March 30, 2014

The city is like
Being stuck in
A giant mason jar
Your fate, your fear
Your pride, your joy
Your regret, your mistakes
Are all mashed together
In this air-tight
Inescapable trap
Clear enough
To look through
But thick enough
To distort all light
Coming through
And the green
Seems ever so vivid
On the other side


March 14, 2014

I feel I am trapped
The dark corner of the room
Where often people forget to look
Waiting to be saved
From all this pain and suffering
Brought on by my own self-loath
Yet it is I who trapped myself
It is nothing anyone has done
And no one is looking to free me
From my own dark decent
As they all have their own demons
To battle in this mess of a life.


December 15, 2013

Beaten down.
Trapped within society.
Unsure where.
To turn.


September 24, 2013

Feeling deflated
A bitter tune plays
Everything just hated
It never goes away.
Pain and remorse
Grief and agony
The emotional course
Never ending.
Wishing for an end
To this gigantic mess
Not the slightest trend
To being on course.
Finally giving in
That there is no point
In avoiding the sin
As it envelopes me.


April 30, 2013

Dead end
No turn
No escape
Like the rabbit
Moving quick
Then stopped
Never to move

Higher ground

September 2, 2012

I found higher ground
But the only problem is
I cannot get down

A Drowning

August 29, 2012

I’m lost.
Completely without direction.
No idea where to go.
Swimming in circles.
Looking for shore.
Sinking slowly.
Sickly feeling.
Stomach turning.
A constant urning.
A need.
Oh I need.
It’s not a want.
It’s more.
I don’t know why.
I don’t know why.
I’m so sore.
Every bit hurts.
Right down to my soul.
I hide it well.
But they all know.
It’s back.
With a vengeance.
Fighting me.
From inside.
Taking flesh.
Turning it to decay.
I cannot stay away.
I need.
Oh how I need.
The water’s of death.
Will drown me soon.
If I don’t drop this needle.
In this spoon.
How I wait.
And wait.
And wait some more.
Praying to God.
Praying to Satan.
Praying to anyone.
Who will actually listen.
Make it stop.
Please make it quit.
The water is rising.
Far too quick.
I can’t get out.
My hand reaches.
One final grasp.
Then slowly.
Then surely.
My fingers slip.
Below the surface.
And a final surge.
Some bubbles.
Then silence.
Still water.
Still life.
As all fades.