If there's one thing that's consistent in this broken up
world it's the music, it cleanses my soul and I've been addicted
since and everything else in my life is falling apart
and you want to get me high, way up there in the stars
flashing from the lights above our head
I just want to forget it all and get lost in the fog, set me on fire
and throw your body away from mine and pull right back
occlusion of the smoke's got me thinking about nothing
in party particular, partially unaware and these leaping forms
got nothing on the sweetness of the bitter crowded club at 1am

Battered and bruised
this heart takes a pounding.
As the mind goes into the spin cycle.
Taking no notice of time
that elapses regardless.

Worn and exhausted,
these lungs yearns and fights for...
Air.
Sweet air.
As if tomorrow would offer no more.

Unnatural and numbing...
Sleep.
These meds promise only the illusion
that all is good and well.
Encapsulated in high sheen gloss.
Shaped such to go down easy.
A means for a convenient albeit
temporary escape.

I sit here...
Undiagnosed.

Myriad symptoms
that tell a thousand stories.
Plethora of aches
that divulged
where things may have veered off course.

Those around offered what they could.
I face open palms daily
and I recognise them to be
gestures of good will and empathy.

I accept with only appreciation and gratitude.

But the wisest could only
provide uncertainty at best.

This is me.
And I'm undiagnosed.

you've always known that when your friends bring you down and leave,
i was going to be there to comfort you, and bring you higher
you've always known that when you lead,
i was going to be there to be your follower
you've always known that when you'd ask me a favor,
i would do it with no hesitation, no matter what kind of labor
you've always known that you had me wrapped around your finger;
always catching me with my eyes, that can't help but linger.
you've always known that i'd do anything for you,
it’s something that i regret but it's true

i would say something like: you were the instruments to my music,
or you were the medicines when I was sick
but you have always been the cause to my death,
and the words to a threat
it might be something like bittersweet,
and it was always me at defeat

and you've always known—
that you are what suffocated me
and you've always known—
but you didn't let go
neither of us did

i was drowning in the sea of you;
and all you did was look at the view.

    
           —a.c