the stars light up the room

how does something worthwhile ever come to be

is it accidental, coincidental perhaps?

a token of triumph about to invalidate the madness of turning back

face to face with the splendor of the stars as they rejuvenate my craving for life

is it the answer of a calling or peeking at the moon enough

to mirror hopes and dreams of yesteryear where the foolish youth burn away

as they should that vivacious great thing we now envy as rotten, yes rotten

we covet and sneer, attempt to plunder and dare I confess sabotage

not the key to Eden this stroke of a match

but alas neither wisdom nor experience make water crystal clear

is seems out of our control and quite frankly at times even reach

for those that locked themselves, voluntary, in a room ready for the pyre

are awaking to a self-committed hell

the fever strips me of all reason

the new founded pantheon cybertronic, makes me spit blood

it is not convenience we fought for nor earned

there is no lounge in what is being lost

the tragedy being confused with sexy vampire teeth

as it installs, sinks in and shifts senselessly

no status quo nor quip can reset

the level we have ascended to

still so far away from the stars:

at first, a simple life

when laziness proved too toxic a good one would suffice

when that did not materialize as per chance upon my bosom

a life of my choosing and within my grasp would have to do

perhaps Youtube or googling it will guide me away from this crowd

strangers new to me explaining me something I shan't follow

nor get It right.

a starving man eats sins (at the beckon of despair bellow the fire)

by the bottom where the darkness runs rampant

the craves taste like a friend, the same

that shovels the grave, amends

a loose knot comes undone by neglect

just the same as the wind unties and the led hand dooms us both

when patient and resolve have simply had quite enough and giving up

condeem us

to memory.

on a lane, not the fast sort

where souls wander

and music is both disconforting and restless

on a past where the button that says delete does not exist

a blow out of sorts is localized, an open secret

to be taken out in those opressed

in this haunted house I feel no love

not that I tried hard to earn something I felt was freely given and deserved

the trickery most of all was to feel forced to leave

all you had to do was ask: order even, a prescrition to a madman on the prowl.

shot twice in the chest, once in the temple

vulnerable once, never again, a job beatifully done.

what am I waiting for feeds my paranoia

hand over fist all down the throat, forcefully

they say suicidal man regret it at the last 

and with backs turned to the sky they face the ground

and the thought does not mellow the storm, perish the voices I am missing

something. 

the aching of dragging chains we refuse to remove

for need of punishment is a burden not worth receiving

nor sharing neither for keeps as a lesson learnt

I broken the mystic that loving someone or something would somehow save myself

that first must be a gift born and freely given to oneself

once the mirror is pieced together and smiling back at me like I want it to.