I quietly weep
my dry tears...
the fluids in
my body
no longer able
to support
my leaking orbs...
scorching sands
sting my flesh
as the time
lazily shuffles
along
teasing me
and my view
that life
is just one
long, depressing
Chore
that I'd rather
not have been
assigned...
I gaze skyward
not to admire
that careless fireball,
which secretly delights
in frying my retina,
but to blink away
the fresh salt-water
collections
that have slowly
regained mass
in my unseeing eyes...
I clamp down
my lids,
forcing myself
to ignore
the descent of
my tears...
though my mind
wanders aimlessly
through the horribly negative
aspects of my existence,
a single thought
sticks to my concentration
like some bloodthirsty
tick,
clinging to a meal...
even if my life's
termination is
achieved by my own
wretched hands,
what punishment
inflicted beyond
the grave
could compare
with the Personal Hell
my tortured soul
has painstakingly
learned
to love... and to hate...

So here I am, sitting
Alone in the dark again
What a perfect f*ckin metaphor
I'm so tired of this
I know I have no reason to feel this pain but
Of course I can't stop it now

It's nights like this when
I don't want to hear solutions
And my dreams just tease me
With promises of a better tomorrow
That isn't today yet
And patience isn't one of my virtues

What, you mean this isn't normal for me?
Either I'm damn good at hiding this or
I spend a lot more time than I like to think
Lost in my head

You take it, and you take it
And you learn,
You learn all too well,
So that later, when there's nobody to dish it out,
You can punch yourself in the gut
And take it some more.

The best part is,
With training and practice,
You learn your own soft spots and weaknesses,
So that you become your own best tormentor.

Double up over the pain and swallow.
It'll still be there tomorrow,
Waiting for you.