Leave me for the worms,
Run, or let me run.
I don’t care what you do.
I’ll only hurt you
By being here,
So you should just hurt me,
And save yourself
From a corrupt heart.

Maybe silence is what I need
A break, away from love and greed.

An obsession of possession
And a possession of obsession.

How much longer
Before I turn deaf
In the dimming static
Of this forsaken planet.

Sometimes
I’m living in my own shadow,
Pushed into what others see.

Sometimes
I’m sticking out like neon
In large groups of people.

Sometimes
I’m still holding on
To what’s long gone.

Sometimes
I forget to let go,
And my blood seeps
Into an outward flow.

As comets fly
Splitting the sky,

Innumerable stars
Litter the beyond

A fleeting moment
Worth a million words,
Yet only so much
Can I say.

As the creeping doubt
Draws shadows of trees
Onto my mind’s canvas,
I silently look away,
Wishing the water’s reflection
Could distract me.

Rippling across the surface;
Distorting what I see.
The inkwell’s matte mirror
Changing what I’m to be.

As a paper gets torn
Fragments are created
Only to be lost from sight

And from mind.

As ink brands a paper, art,
A tear brands a paper,
As nothing more than a lost fragment