I pull up my sleeves, and lay my head beneath my knees.
Another pack of cigarettes to burn out the mundane weeks.
I alight my flame and the cherry ignites, as I
Begin to notice the slight palate of fiber glass with each breath.
The faint taste of cowboy killers are seeming dilute and supine.
Yet, the eerie smoke still engulfs in my vacant mind.
I find that the comfort of the kindle quickly fades and reduces to ash.
This nicotine high is insubstantial to blocking out
My imbalanced neurotransmitters that are leaking too much serotonin.
I believe a pretentious narcissistic lives in every soul.
And I too, will stay in my labyrinth with enigmas eating at my bones.
While you sleep I lay in bed next to your frame and gently weep.
With the November leaves, I feel my anticipation and courage
for each and all ambitions, desires, and aspirations crumble beneath my feet.
Without such endurance, my longings will seep within an hourglass
That drains each grain of sand with no remorse.
And like the scent of spring, my record of precious reminiscences
will eventually fade into a memory that I will erase.
I am aware I’m too young to be dispatched to heavens gates,
Yet the thoughts of passing away invade while I try to rest my eyes each night.
My stomach churns and hyperventilates fighting past tears.
I breathe recklessly, not able to catch or calm my lungs.
The comfort of my burial grounds brings peace to my absent mind.
And I cannot find myself; only diminutive traits of a minute character.
Translucence is who I’ve become; a stranger who wanders,
Searching for his inhibitions and tranquility,
Only to find himself perdu to the human espy.