One day at a time

Seems like I can’t do it no more,

death is the only thing on my mind

and I can’t seem to step down in life.

Hope the heavens take me,

hope the heavens bless me,

I’m sick of being so tired.

In and out of mental prisons,

cycles of abuse seemed never-ending,

a healthy dose of skepticism didn’t save me from pretending.

They were condescending,

The doom impending,

wasn’t worth the money I was spending.

No shoes, no clothes would put a cloth over my wounds,

aching.

Can I go?

Would you let me?

Another day would be too much, can God save me?

Or maybe I’ll just shut up like I always do,

Put the mask on and be the person who,

stood beside you like nothing was wrong,

the same person you devalue,

but oh well,

I guess it’s like this for now,

having nothing, staying at my parent’s house,

barely have a dime to my name,

but I have my soul and I have heart,

everybody but I to blame,

I have poems, I have art,

and no shame in my game.

 

 

 

 

 

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Alive

This room is my prison.

A dark cell governed by darkness I sit in.

This bed is my home,

and these walls – the only thing that listen,

how the sound changes from silence to shrieks in a second,

all the pain they’ve reckoned and all the punches they’ve taken.

They breathe in unison with my fears at night,

but they keep silent, all four polite.

Pillows – the tear catchers,

catch every drop from my eye,

These things are all I have – all that keeps me alive.

Never alone in this room that I own,

This place and these walls are all that I’ve known.

 

 

The High Priest

For once,
let me be the beauty and not the beast,
not the under,
but the High Priest,
worthy of your attention at the very least.

For once,
let me hear gasps of amazement when I walk by,
let me be visible to the eye,
and not bantam like a fruit fly.
Let me be loud enough for you to hear my
war cry,
because I,
want to leave speck of a spark
before we all die.

I want to mean something,
I want to be more,
worth more than a penny and a louis d’or,
shining so bright,
no one can ignore.
I want you to see me,
and be shook to your core.

Crosses

We are born,

we take on our path,

each and every one with a cross on their back.

Some heavier,

some easier to bear,

some wooden, some gold plated,

the latter being very rare.

We carry them to work, to home and back again,

while we laugh or cry,

it’s always there.

We go to sleep, lay it aside,

wake up again, wear it with pride.

 

 

 

Satan’s Cellar Dweller

Every day scrambling for something good in me,

But there’s evil in every cell,

It gets the best of me.

And every night I go to sleep,

I pray to Jesus on the crucifix,

Fall asleep with good intentions,

wake up as the best friend of Lucifer.

Dwelling in my cellar,

angels try to break through,

I know evil is the strongest force,

but maybe there’s something good, too.

Here he is, the fallen angel, knocking at my door again,

I try to fight but once more I let him win.

It’s ten minutes to three, I’m sharpening my knives,

Homicidal ideation, I might be taking lives tonight.

I walk these empty streets alone,

Looking for an easy prey,

Someone is about meet their death…

on Lord’s day.

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Bored

So bored and out of it,
Staring at the stale, dry cracks in the wall,
A cockroach leans in for a kiss with the dirty dish.
It’s been a while…
Look at the nightfall,
I’ve been waiting to put this cigarette to my lips,
Inhale…
Make a wish.
Smoke caressing the lungs like a gun gently brushing against the temple,
It smells like death, if the smokes are going to kill me, let them.
It’s been too long,
Already twenty-five out of seventy,
and the thought of leaving this hell seems heavenly.
I have nothing to offer,
just my worn out shell.
Like a bride rejected and left at the altar.
If I go unnoticed, I won’t have to tell.
But for now, let the bones decay,
I’ll be here in the clouds of smoke,
Waiting so patiently,
when twenty-five becomes seventy,
and my life is erased from the first, to the last day.

Camatose

Yet again,
these pits of hell,
grip me tightly ’round my neck,
it’s a love song, it’s a spell,
feel this pain spread in my chest.
I slip into my comatose,
heavy, medicated sleep,
a thousand needles, head to toe,
as the night grows dark and deep.
There’s no escape and no salvation
from this illness I possess,
It’s a cage and I’m a beast,
held in captive and possessed.

Strawberry Mark

My scars light up on fire,

every time I reminiscence,

of the abyss, I was held captive in.

the mirrors are my liars,

they told me I would never come to win.

The walls are my only,

the listeners in the dark,

of my sighs and my prayers ā€“ holy,

as I begin to remember your strawberry marks.

Iā€™m a prisoner of my universe,

of this glass wall, I have made,

of my soul that is wounded,

of my body ā€“ decayed.

Deaths sweet, soothing lullaby

While it’s quiet,
and spirits dance around me while I cry,
I hear so often in the night,
Death’s sweet, soothing lullaby.

It sings about the knot,
and the rope you use to tie it,
it sings about the freedom,
it knows that you are tired.

It sings about the buildings,
ones that stand up tall,
about the flight that comes with them,
about the moment when it ends it all.

I hear it’s silky undertone,
It’s begging me to try,
I’m in no two minds,
this was the last time I heard,
death’s sweet, soothing lullaby.