Bourbons, Demons and Depression

Losing my head

It seems to have fallen off

Time warps so fast

I find myself in tomorrow

Standing on today

My mind reliving the past

The cold, my anthem

The chills, lullaby

Eyes, cross

red and lights

a peer, a peek

they look at me

following my steps

in a room

deep in the wild

scars, memories

mixed

with anger

fills my heart

a box

all corners

I jump to find air

Oh!

Gasp

 

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pressure

I can’t lie

These days

I feel the pressure more

The weight, the anvil

On my soul

Bare, burdened

My brain clogged

Calling for help

Through

words on a blue wall

Losing the wheels of life

Steering straight

at a blank

Senses fading

Exhaust filling my lungs

Summer detaching

 

I can’t lie

All I need is green in color

Serenity in actuality

Love in physicality

All I need is an escape

Away from my mind

Doze off

Sometimes
I hear the car horn in the distance
Monotone with my heart beat
Catching rhythm
Loosening the knots
By the edge of rocks
I hear the knuckle
The against
The rubbing
Then the fire
Sometimes
Early in the morning
I hear the lonesome driver
Heading somewhere
Speeding in the badly lit street
Never fearful of what might come
The burning of tire
Screeching, hydroplaning
Then skidding
Into black
Sometimes
I see myself
My skin pores tense
Holding onto worry
Eyes staring at the screen
My hands relaying the workings of my insides
Waiting for the next tap
Waiting for the next line
Waiting till I can finally….

Simple World: Using Culture for Survival

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Using culture for survival, not to antagonize: creating division amongst a generation that have more things in common than any era to have lived on earth.

Imagine a world, evil hiding in the presence of good. Acting, representing all the glamour and glitz associated with serenity only to lose one step down then the true face appears.

The idea to go back home after all this years of pillaging through the mud and rain of another country has hope burning crawling through my veins. Having fought hard to come here to this place, I now find myself fighting life itself to go back home. Rejection spews out of me with every attempt, every sweat, and every shiver. Through the seasons, I long for the abode I seek. Yet in another land, I am uncounted for. Without a name, a number they call me. And with force, I answer.

I stood up and looked around, and the eyes in the office met mine. It was bone chilling, seeing all that looked but could not see look at me and reveal the secrets beyond their minds to me. It was an eerie feeling. Evil yet sweet like the sweetness of a mother’s love. All pure yet if used could be bring the burden of suffering and abuse.

Pursue me, pursue me. Watch me grow into a man and see my mistakes every step I take. I call for you and come forth, with your hands out wide, like a lost lover ready to let go off any grudge, any pain that might have planted as a wooden stake into your heart. Yes, I see you. That wicked, wicked smile.

The idea of my blackness only sunk in when I landed at Dallas International Airport. The summer torching humidity was the first to welcome me. It was unbelievable stepping out from the well air conditioned lobby into the bare intense heat. It felt like the melting heat was tugging at my skin, reminding, sucking away any trace of bodily fluid. This was different from the northern sun of Kaduna I was used to. This was the in your face type of sun in a way mirroring much of the attitude I was to receive later on.

Through the red lines, our subject pupils adjusted to the green emerald light that emancipate every breath of the room; illuminating the high taste that encompassed the whole building. Our subject still deluded: entranced, walks towards the now increasingly bright light stationed at th

Valley Down

The idea of my blackness only sunk in when I landed at the Dallas International Airport. The summer humidity was first to welcome me. It was unbelievable, stepping out from the air conditioned lobby into the bare intense heat. It felt like the melting heat was tugging at my skin, reminding, sucking away any trace of bodily fluid. This was different from the northern sun of Kaduna I was used to. This was the in your face type of sin in a way mirroring much of the attitude I was to receive later on.