sleepwalking existence

nothing can stop the water

it finds its way through the walls

through the cracks

through the seams

through the beams 

of the soul of this building 

then stains appear

like some hidden morbid fear

in the soul of a man

(do people really become ugly

when they think ugly thoughts?)

the smell of water is everywhere

the walls are now stained

impure

as i wait for another accident

to wake me up from this sleepwalking existence

to make me feel something alive

am i breathing?

i don't think i am

i don't think i'll mention 

i'm not even paying attention

because ugly people have ugly intentions

beautiful people do, too

just like me and you

Stolen Words

They can steal my tweets, my words, my jokes

Copy paste these words wherever they like

Get them tattooed in their skins for fake admiration

But they still won't feel what I felt

When I poured these words 

From the black depths of my soul

Like dark blood falling on white sheets

Like dark blood painting the walls and ceilings

Painting patterns to invoke

The demons made of smoke

They won't know when I felt like shit

They won't know the elation, the joy

They won't know the sadness of lost toys

I've diluted the blood with tears

Just so I could write some more

About my hopes and my fears

They will never know. 

I belong to these words 

And these words belong to me

They can be stolen, but they'll never belong to them

--

I need to do a part two of this poem. Still feels strangely unfinished.

Remember The Magic?

Do you remember the magic?

If you don't, let me help you

Because I want to help you

I'll even say please

I want to show you the magic

So let's go, you and me

Before things turn too tragic

Remember the day of your 

Ninth birthday

When you ripped gift paper off gifts

there was surprise in your eyes

that was magic

Remember the rain on a Monday morning 

When mother said it's okay to not go to school

And you stayed in all day playing video games

Or reading comics in your room

that was magic

Remember the time you went to a new place

How the light played tricks with shadows

How those places smelled

Those peculiar smells that you associate with only those places

that was magic

So where is that magic now?

We have to find it, you and I

We have to dig deep down in our memories

And relive that special memory

Only for a second maybe

To recapture

The Darkness Will Eat Me

I have been staring at the screen for so long

So dazed, so fazed

My memories erased

There is nothing more left to take now

Just the ashes of my soul

Falling down in this dirty air

I am not here or there

I am everywhere and nowhere

Just questions in my head 

With no answers visible

I am waiting to be dead

Waiting for a miracle

Who needs the answers anyway?

Who needs the truth?

There is only pain on this planet

And space is so far away

(so far away)

There was this place called home 

Is it there anymore?

Where life was simple

Where air was pure

Where if you closed your eyes

You would hear for miles

The distant whistles of a trains 

(Rolling rolling)

Going somewhere I'll never go

I know that I don't know

What all this means

Maybe it means nothing

The big black awaits us

The final silence

The shame

Of being born again

The shame of living a life like this

Staring at screens all the time

While our batteries run low

I know that I don't know

But if you go, take me with you

I can't be here alone

The darkness will eat me

Words Chased Me Home Today

I was chased by some words today
They followed me to my home
They clung to my shoes
They climbed in my bones

Those words did something to my brain
Now all my thoughts are weird and strange
The words traveled through my blood
Seems my heart has been rearranged

My fingers tickle and skin rips away
The words bleed on this keyboard
All sticky and stacky but oh so happy
Words are never ever ever bored

I watch fascinated, as I bleed away
Words crawl on this screen and sit in lines
I have nothing more left to say
I am fine. Really. I am fine.

I Have Seen

I have seen dreams die

In the eyes

of men 

who slave from 9 to 9

I have breathed 

the stench of fear

and failure

in office cubicles

I have felt

a random urgency

a pressure

of doing something

there is no pride in just moving

from one place to another

to and fro and to

I have seen nothing new