god, help me.

a point of desperation,
pandora's box opened.
a flickering thought,
and then
nothing.

adulthood.

i have a sort of nostalgia
that
appeals to the senses.
a childhood that
smells like cigarette smoke
and has the faint image of
a ring-shaped stain
from a beer mug.
looking back, everything
tastes like a secret recipe
and feels like
frustration.
in my memories, all i can hear is
laughter.
now, living
a bitter numbness, i
fear i'm just a shell
of what i used to be.

can you spare 25 cents?

the poor man and
the rich, alike,
are gambling their lives away.
they're standing at the edge,
wondering
if it's where the world
ends.

decisions.

will you sell your soul to
art or science?
a shadow dancing
to a foreign song,
starving for the
lab coat effect.

personality is everything.

we all succumb to
gravity and
shadows
eventually.

building walls and burning bridges.

their facades are simply
fascinating.
this habit
of putting on a show is
nothing short of splendid.
never have people revealed so much
of themselves while revealing
absolutely nothing.
if you really cared about me,
you would
walk away.

don't leave me hanging (on the telephone).

i've realized that the rest of my life is a long time,
that i can't quite recall what your voice sounds like,
and we'll never have another conversation.
she says i was you world once and maybe
that's true.
i didn't always feel it but i know you
couldn't always show it.
i don't blame you anymore.
i wish i could say more to you now than
a few uttered prayers,
the way we talk to idols and
invisible figures.
you were real once; that makes the point
hurt that much more.
that i'll never hear your voice until i
need to be called home.