"I'm not happy anymore"
I exclaim as I scatter
All my books across the floor
Searching for some answer
I can't find outside the door,
Oh it's night, always dusk in the street.

"She doesn't love me anymore"
I cry out in pain
As the glow engulfs my head
Turning all the spirits
To a dim and dusty red
But it's dark, always dusk here in space.

I'm destined to clean up messes
that no one else will see

Inviting my hopes over
to someday maybe stay a while with me.

The elephant in this grey box
is staring straight into my dead eyes.

Collapse is fast approaching
and no one's here to watch these legs die.

"I haven't left here for a week"
I wonder aloud
Although I'm too afraid to speak
Fear of admonition
From the shadows that I breathe
You come in as if nothing's even changed.


The Bohemian Republic of Venezuela

I can see sleep
Working its daily death
On my shutter eyelids
As two blank screens
Incessantly illuminate
This stupid pitch-black space.

Always connected always wired maybe happy always

And it's times like these
When I dream of returning
But I die every day.
Although there, like a patient undead
Remains outside, in the outside world.

And so I will wake up.

And so I will sprint til I spot shelter
The gentle arms of academia
Where even no man has a home.



Dissonance Pistil

I see a ghost.
My eyes are itchy.
A low buzz is rolling through the halls.
Everything glows violent.
You are a slow shriek.
And humming, red ash flowers.
This house is engulfed in smoke.
My autopilot won't turn off.
The electricity's gone.
And you are becoming a ghost.