A view

A pathetic urge to feel away
So by my window I smoke a big J.
As I inhale, my head turns into a big empty stadium.
The street lights are on and everybody sleeps.
The air is cold, I can see my breath from inside my room.
Ashes fall into my notebook. I dirty my pinky by sweeping them off.

I feel better than dead.
There is an ease to my wondering mind,
Bathed in a white foamy smoke.


A dream clear as day


I closed my eyes on Saturday,
Woke up Monday midday.
My sleep was filled with pains,
Although awake, some of it remains,

My hands are scarred,
For I hit a wall so hard.
The blisters slowly grow,
For I didn’t want to let go.

My feet hanging off the edge,
For I was holding onto a bridge.
My lungs are dry and quail,
For I did wail.

Now I lay in silence,
Waiting for a friendly presence.
But the wooden door stays closed,
And only the outside light shows.
I cannot see any blue,
The winter azure has no hue.
Its vivid glow hurts my eyes
On this sad day of white skies.

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