Hipsters.

If this blade was meant for my wrist, then why is it that I can’t cut? 

If this noose fits tight round my neck, then why hesitate to give up?       

If this task is so easy to accomplish, why do i feel so ashamed?           

If this life i have was gifted to me, then who am i going to blame?

I drink until I forget the world or smoke until i'm no more                     

This life I live and breathe and feel, 
Yet these feelings are never secure.  

If it means the end of the world for me I've been high, I've been low and can quit 

But this loss of love on many account feels pretty fucking shit.

If i sit and dwell these thoughts collide,

The result of which drove me mad,

Crazy to think i cared for nothing, content with what i once had.

If these pills will put me to sleep, I should take them all and go under.

Why is it when I’m close to the edge, My mind and my heart both sunder.

The Most Vivid Nightmare - The Tides Begin

It drifts to me at the edge of sleep ,
Once the days “adventure” ends, 

The tides begin.

I’m chained by the neck to an desolate beach, it’s hot.
There’s a low hum that vibrates the sand, 

The floor slithers with grains.

Focus is impossible.

The vastness,

The emptiness,
Something makes it clear how inevitable escape is,
The sea is paint, thick and heavy,

A blend of unimportant colors.

Behind me I hear someone call my name,
The chain tightens and I am dragged to the floor, 

The pain eclipsed by my curiosity,

Unable to turn and see who it is.
“You were never worthy” he shouts, she shouts; they shout.
Laughing and giggling as I helplessly claw at the sand to find the chains origins.
Mute and blind with legs of lead,

I strike my own temple and the voices stop.
My head, struck and ringing like a bell,

Vibrates down the chain slowly; obviously.

The tides color remains unassuming, unimportant,
The humming chain shatters.

I run for hours into nothing,

sand suspended tickling my ankles,

The voices return and chase me,
I could only hit myself so many times, 

I fell to the sand bloody and shaken.
I've run out of strength, 

I'm so hot,

My essence steams from my wounds and bruises,

I struggle for air,
My whole body is a furnace and I’m crying for salvation.

The sea, so unimportant like its colors, 

It cradles me into its depths. 

It’s so cold.
I struggle at first,

Thick, chilled, blends of blue paint suffocate me.
I choke and cough but I never drown,
the fires in my lungs which engulfed my body,

Now smothered, 

The voices and him became nothing and so did I.