Workaholic
Overworked and sleep deprived
stayed up late last night
to feel like I gained back some time
Feeling like a machine
fueled by a diminishing sense of mine
sanity waning low
no where to go
making me work all the more
slave to the goals
even though they move the posts
I can’t wait till they let me go
Work Days
Wake up,
no air in your lungs,
stressed before the days begun.
Head over late to work
because the work don’t end,
and overtime don’t pay enough.
work all day
through your lunch and breaks,
just to have more work on a future date.
go home,
find a movie or game,
doomscroll, kill the rest of the day.
Sleep late
and pray for a better day,
just to dream about work,
for the rest of your days.
I Write to Die
I thought I needed to write to survive. It helped me escape the day while locked in my mind, safe and sealed in time. It served as a rite, absolving my sins and while a lesser me died. Burned away for my sake, a final resting place I’ve made.
My own personal death parade.
I thought I needed to write to survive. Now I know I die every time I write, and even that won’t change my mind.
Dear Nephew,
How I wish you were alive.
A part of me wishes you could see the hole you left behind, when you took your life.
They cried for you.
You took a part of them to the grave with you.
A part of me hated you.
Then I dreamt of you, and how remorseful you were.
I told you I loved you and forgive you.
The day will come when you can apologize to them too.
. . .
Dear Nephew,
I no longer dream of you.
I hope it’s a sign that your soul is at peace.
Alive in memory.
More Than I am
All I want
is to be
something more
than I am.
Something grand
that can justify
all this life
that I had.
An homage
for all the restless sounds in my head
for all the times I survived,
despite my desire to die.
I write to show my worst side.
That ack of black.
That pit with nothing inside.
I want the Hell inside my mind remembered,
more than I am.
Life’s a riot
Emotions over-flow with frustration and hate,
my eyes holding back turbulent waves.
I pray every day so I can survive the ones like today. . .
I crave peace, so I chased silence,
but to create, I can’t stay silent.
Now forever locked in a pit of self-inflicted violence.
resigned to an endless life riot to keep my writing vibrant.
Light and Dark
Life’s unearned and underserved, a price we pay through hells endured.
Sounds absurd, like light feels falling inward.
A cosmos born, to shine on you.
The Big Bang made true, and you're its proof.
Time comes to life, one atom at a time.
Every day is an oath to see it through.
Because we are the Light, Darkness comes too.