distant memories of mattering & hoping to be seen (if i could see what would become of me would i have stuck around for the scene?)

 it's been so long since the stars have been gone yet i find i'm startled still

when i wake up to an empty sky sat outside my window sill

i swallow the feeling deep inside as it rises in me like vomit

pray in all of my naivete that the moving objects no comet

asked about myself this day id beg to go without comment

for there is nothing really left to say without me being honest

if i could dispose of my face even if i like the way it lays

on the bone that composes my frame

i think i know that i'd do it just the same

if i could die for a moment in time 

if i could be free of my body then i'd

have so much that i could say 

so many things to live for today 

but i'm so acutely aware of my being contained

and that's the excuse that i'll feed you today

We wake up

...and it starts

There was a time, i could swear

where we dreamt of, dreamt of stars

They truly didn't seem too far

Before their faces became marred

Prior to being barred

I still had my bars

Fixed firmly on my windows frame

All the while I dreamt a type of fame

That always seems to end stories 

the same

As my fiction has ceased to claim

Our reality 

Is a sad malady 

And every memory 

Is now tinged 

with a sombre melody

Barred

From entry

And from the pantry

What these greedy hands have seen

Or so i've been told

That’s at least some consistency

I can be consistent, see?

See?

Do you see–

Can you see what's left of me?

Whatever is left to see

I catch a glimpse when I dare dream

It's obscene

it’s something akin to

Ecstasy

I have seen and been

Entrenched in what was

ecstasy 

stepping on the necks of what comes next

then as i grew close to seen

In vain we hope to get to glean

A glimpse of what we might have been

A glimpse of what's beyond the sheen

And then ends the scene

And now I am nothing

All this for rightfully fleeing?

Wake up to my black mirror 

Wear it like a shroud

Hold it like the memory

I’ve uploaded to the cloud

Put on my airs for others

Demonstrate why i should feel proud

And psychosomatically 

it works systematically

I do it then feel i can be loud

Am i to be an art form 

Or am i to be a curse

Depending on the day it's asked

It can't tell which of them is worse

A burden to myself and nobody else is left to blame

Except for anyone and everyone

Who should feel rightfully ashamed

The web that caught me in its net

Fashioned from my last name

Then the one that held and carried me

Helped me know new kinds of pain

Born into different pens, i knew

I knew,

I knew it from the start

For the broken and the beaten 

Lose out to those with noble heart

Woke up against my will and it starts

Born the target, never the dart

Seems I always miss the mark 

It’s almost a form of art

This tree bears something generationally

From the apple to the rooted tree

There's something rotten inside of me

Ailing consistently

Awake again, it seems im sent

I was once told i was heavensent

Told all manner of these kinds of things

Before the angel can sprout its wings

Then once their true colours are shown

They can see the colors on their own

And before i could have ever flown

I already knew I'd have to let them go

Awake again I'd beg for mercy please

Maybe it will never cease

Until I succumb to bedbugs

Some form of illness or disease

Fashioned into a weapon 

Match the bite to the bark

it seems

Built into the bark of the tree

We all succumb to the very same sorts of things

Found the way to make something out of nothing

And it seems nothing's all i seem

Wake up and it starts

Shots in the dark

Will I ever live outside this screen

Will i finally feel in control right then

As i bleed out who, what, where and when

Inevitably without house or home

Left to the maggots to rot?

At least then maybe i’ll know what it is to feel want-ed

Cling onto the closest impression

Of something solid

At least then maybe i’ll become the ghost who haunt-ed

The waking nightmares of the demons 

Stepped outside of the dreams

Right between my seams

Whether or not I wanted

How much longer then until i come apart

So much longer than it seemed When I was still so small and the future

Seemed to gleam

Perfect cloth creation, still

there was a time where i had teeth

Knew my own value and believed like a vow

In all that i could be

Knew every door remained open to me 

Opened like a gaping maw

It's waiting for me

Come to a crossroads you have two choices

And mine can be narrowed indeed

To stepping willingly into the darkness ahead

Or discovering it only as

it consumes me

Oh to think of what we might have been

Oh to think of getting to try again

The feeling rises in me now I recognize what I'm seeing

Rather than vomit it's a blackened tar

That will sit in my gullet

Truth is borrowed

I will not follow

Subscribe to something so obscene

I will craft one of my own

My own perfect idea of the scene

The home I wish I had grown and known

I will not simply swallow

My lack of tomorrows

I will not accept what is seen

I will step outside of the dream

I am all and I am nothing

I was born, yes, for something

I can still feel it coming

And there it is