Cold hands underneath my body.
Fingers rapidly grasping my arm longing for me to stay
I shake off any affection given to me.
“Poison,
Get away from me” I hear one of my voices telling me.
Maybe I am right, or maybe I’m wrong
I can’t deny the feeling of confusion mixed with anger and
sadness.
We’re all nonexistent species wanting to be loved so badly
by someone else because we cannot fully absorb the
concept of being alone.
We are made of single I’s.
We are two different souls that
will never ever know the other person anyway..

I am missing a large portion of my heart
A lot inside that's been slashed apart
Forfeited innocence in order to get high
Need to understand it
Need to know why

Need a magnifying glass to see the clues
I'm free to find all the ways that before I did lose
Thoughts kept me on the brink of drowning every day
In the nightmare failing to take me away

I ate and overgorged on rich fantasies
Like colored candy ingested impossibilities
Needed more than temporary flavor
Needed a taste I could always savor

Feed my demons with an abundance of doubt
Awakened in body inside and out
Infestation of insecurity
Like plankton multiplying
Blooming in sea

Floor barely visible underneath clustered stuff
Ask myself why I don't care enough
Brain needs rewiring in the worst kind of way
Stopped feeling human
Instead a statue made of clay

To fix all that is broken is an unrealistic concept
Dance around things I'm not ready to accept
Cloak my open wounds
Hide pain that's only mine to know
Pretend underneath is as undamaged as the parts that show

Fear is yet a concept
Within itself
For fear can only
Fear itself

A concept of self
strengthens with wealth
The rules they do change
when our histories made
Is perception an image of taste

Where to begin when
the pendulum swings
For all of our sins
start from within
Can we see beyond
our own gates
Does right become
wrong on judgement day

Like time, are we found through serendipity.
Minutes, a mere tick to unfounded revelation.
Past, are the days when we go subtly by, dissipating into the night sky.

Like time, our corporeal spirits aloft into the pitchy sky.
The tender kiss, a gentle stroke, nuanced by the caressing love of the lunar above.

Like time, are we imprisoned in our own conscious. A mere abstract picture, blown into the winds, caught adrift, and veered into the dark streams of reality's heavy rift.

Like time, we are ethereal wayfarers: youthful beings marked by ephemeral nature, merely to trance the universe's wake.

And like time, our departure ticks till the last grain meets, and the sand flipped, to start all over again, and again, and again.