Somnia

Being a dreamer in a dreamless world.

Trying to make sense of the senseless and the absurd.

It is not one, it is not two, it is not three, but it is four that meet the unknown.

This knocks you out.

This wakes you up.

This quiets the demons.

This keeps you sane.

But, where is the one that makes you happy ?

Can you stuff happy in a pill ?

Can you take pieces of them inside of you ?

Devour them till your veins turn blue ?

Crucify the demons with your mother’s prayers.

Justify your sins with your father’s blade.

This will forever be the mystery.

Of what became of my history.

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War Child

Have you ever noticed how

When the moon is in its crescent phase

It looks like the light might devour the darkness ?

Is it just me and my hopeful optimistic bullshit or is that what everyone else notices as well ?

Maybe its God.

Communicating to those who are seeking.

Light devours darkness.

I have not thought about death in a long time.

I admit I was afraid of admitting that.

Once you admit something it kinda vanishes.

I hear you God.

I hear you on the moon.

I hear you in the wind.

I am a child born in the midst of a war.

I was born a fighter and a survivor.

Even when my lungs were giving out.

My mother gave me air.

My mother gave me life.

That must mean something, shouldn’t it ?

Everything has its meaning.

Seek and you shall find.

I searched, as far as I could.

I discovered death at the edge of the world.

And then I looked up.

There are far more things to be discovered.

Far more things to live for.

Light devours the darkness.

And I want to let my light out, devour all darkness thats in this world.

I hear you God.

I know why I am here.

I am a war child that will spread peace.

10102000

Out in the ocean where everything is set in motion.
The waves, they crash, and with it my heart feels the commotion.


Up and down the way they move.

Round and round my thoughts confused.


How can a simple thought turn to a dark source.

The light illuminates but the screams are hoarse.


They say the only way a heart is open, is when its broken.

But the soul freezes, and the walls become the unspoken.


Grey is the color that took my mother.

Green is the color my skin had as cover.


This is the day you got your freedom.

This is the day I was beaten.


I know the guilt you feel for loving this day.

How the breath of fresh air came your way.


I watched you as you became smaller and smaller.

In my head, it replays over and over.


The sun

The wind

The heat

My feet

They are not running after you.

They are pinned down on the ground looking blue.


My blood stopped.

As my heart dropped.


Now, I pour my darkened soul that was taken over by this hole.

I pour it all down the gutter to try and make me whole.


But what if life takes its toll.

And the thing that gave you warmth makes you cold.


What if I had control over my feet.

And ran after you in the midst of your fleet.


Will it be any different ?

Will I still feel this feeling of false healing.

Knees kneeling till they are numb from weeping.


Grey is the color that took my mother.

Black is the color I painted the gutter.

The Needle and The Thread

The torture we inflict on ourselves with our daydreams.

The lives we wish we had.

The feelings we wish we felt.


The human need to feel.

How foolish must we sound to the stones.


Stitch.

Stitch.

Stitch.


Wounds cut so deep, that will make an opening on the other side.


Stitch through the pain. 

Stitch through the dreams.


Stitch.. Stitch.. Stitch..


The needle and the thread.

Of whats to come and whats gone.


Stitch through the heartache.

Stitch through the memories.


Stitch.. 


Till you can no longer remember their faces.

Their smiles.

Your name.


Stitch..


Till you run out of daydreams.

Of memories.

Of breath.


Stitch..


For the life of you.

For the life of your mother.


Leave the dreams to those who still have hope.

Leave the hope to those who still have faith.

Leave the faith to those who still believe.


Your only truth is behind a needle and a thread.

So, stitch like its your only religion. 

Like its the only thing you ever knew.

X.X.MM

On all those nights you left.

I have felt.
I have wept.

I have slept.

And I have dreamt.

Of the day that I was swept.

Into your warmth once more.


But I was taught at the age of 9.

That the world doesn’t always shine.


I was taught at the age of 10.

To wrap my arms around myself and pretend.


I was taught at the age of 11.

That you are really gone, but not forgotten.


And Im just now learning at the age of 26.

That this hole you left in me, can’t be fixed.


No matter how hard I try to burn my lungs with smokes and screams.

They remain empty of life and full of your genes.


Yes, you left me with a monster.

But I taught myself how to breathe underwater.


At the age of 18.

Is when I finally saw the different shades of darkness, and on them I started to lean.


This world is vast.

And the time is running fast.

But I am standing here haunted by your past.


I am standing still.

But I know the drill.

Keep yourself busy and feel the thrill.


Feel the blood rushing through your veins.

Feel the skies pouring life when it rains.


The life you took away from me.

The day my heart started beating faintly. 


I curse that day.

But I am thankful for it anyway.

It made me who I am, in its own fucked up way.


Red

In my mind, I paint these walls red.
In my mind, I give in.


In my vivid imaginations is where I succumb to my demons.

Take me as I am.


Who’s gonna save me if theres no ‘me’ worth saving?


Not my mother.

Not my father.

Not my sister, and brothers.

Not my lover.


In my mind is where I am at peace inside those red colored walls.

In my mind is where I’m controlled by the gun.

The bullets, the paintbrush, painting these walls.

With my red.

My head.

And all that i’ve shed.


I can sense it in the air.

I can feel it in my limbs.


Death is near.


And I welcome it with open arms.

Like a lost friend that I have been looking for all my life.


The ending is soon approaching.


And I’m surrendering in all my fights.

Like a wave drifting me away. 

To the coast of nothingness. 



Relapse

I call Wednesdays, relapse day.
I started naming them that way once it became a pattern.

But I guess its better than it consuming you on a daily basis, no ?

Once a week is considered an upgrade. 

But that “once” lasts for 4 days sometimes. 

The green, white, and pink don’t help much at this point. 

The triggers creep up on you in the most innocent of forms. 

Things you think you’ll get lost in.

But end up losing it. 


I haven’t heard the voices for a month now.

This is the first time admitting that they exist. 

Once you say something out loud, once you write them down, they become concrete.

And thats what scared me.

I don’t want this to be real. 

Which led to my breakdown. 


What is real ?

What is there ?

What was said last night ?

Was it a dream or reality ?

Is this my endless nightmare ?


Wake up.


Pinch me.


I’m trying to keep the brave face. 

I promise.

I know you always want me to be the strong kid you always remember.

But it gets heavy sometimes.

And I’m sorry for that, mom.


I’m sorry I’m not as strong as I used to be.

I’m trying to kill the voices before they kill me.

I’m trying to wake up from this deep stupor my mind put me in.

I’m so scared.

I’m scared and I feel so alone.


But on relapse day, I give up.

My head will be the death of me.