Commandeering the city bus,
Scaring folks with all th’ fus,
Doing what I absol’ mus’,
I breakdown feeling sus,

What’s brought me here t’ this,
Decisions made chasin’ bliss,
Aimed high ‘n’ low, all miss’d
Deviating got them pissed

Trying hard t’ stake a claim,
Risking life as a maim,
Dodging right my own blame,

Digging deep and pushing on,
Feeling like its soon gone,
Twilights fast approaching dawn,

It’s fading in my memory now,
Quite certain even if I vow,
It’s too late to solve for how,

My fill of regret and shame,
Fleeting is this torches’ flame,
Part of me is lost jus’ the same,

As I fall on to the floor,
Just past the bus’s door,
Dripping with my own gore,
My last breath fights for more,
“What if” has so much in store,

On my tongue is but a name,
As I circle back this game,
What couldn’t’ve been th’ same

A wound that ends this life,
Feelings so old and rife,
Never letting go of strife,

Now it all ends right here,
Wishing I had been more dear,
Part of me’s gone, is clear.

It can be an addiction,
Craving moments of intimacy,
A touch, a look, a connection,
Our souls twinned and aligned,
For a moment time is lost,
Our existence melds into one,
I’m finally not alone, but is it real?

Wanting more, needs unfilled,
To sate this insecure desire,
An inner void neglected,
Pounding louder in deafening silence.

You haven’t left, but I fear your loss,
Expecting pain, I push too much,
I grasp to hold tight, smothering,
You recoil, in pain, of course,

I make the pain I fear,
How do I fill the void,
How do I stop the cycle.

I used to believe in freedom, but not anymore. I’m stuck in this life, as if I ever decided anything, how any of it was going to go. I made choices, I changed direction but not the outcome. I’m still me.

Does freedom exist, or just the lack of it? Do I exist, or just existence without me? All this was going to happen anyway, did I make a difference. Can I still?

How could I dare to be more than the unit of human I was born into, more than my experience, more than the thoughts in my head and my interactions with all this stuff.

I’m pulling it away from my face.

It’s stuck on and won’t let go.

is this really who I am,

who I’ve become.

To place a label on something is to understand it,

To have a place to put an idea, object, or thought,

But all things are always changing; entropy, evolution,

So a label is a mere snapshot; the near past, soon gone,

So the label ends meaningless; limited, small, and finite,

To know something is to only know yourself in it.

To think of universals are arrogant, fleeting, grasping, yearning.

Give up your delusions of legacy, they’re already gone too.

Now you understand labels– just your yearning to carve your name.

Silly meat puppet.

It occurs to me that there will likely be a point in my existence where I will not want to keep living. I’ve lost the fear of missing out. Soon maybe, no desire to chase any thrills. Will I want to fade slowly into the background and be forgotten? Someday we will all slip from the collecive conscious so as to be never thought of again.

At that point I will already be dead. Dying merely sets things right.

To take my own life may spawn a new thought in someone else. An examination of the death itself, the intention and the execution. It’s too much for living minds. There has to be a story. Satisfactory explaination.

A simple solution, I should make it look like an accident. Merely a lapse of judgement that met my demise. That seems easier for the passerby.

it is only when a new fly starts doing circles,

that you realize the old one is dead someplace.