I unloaded so much of me into an empty vessel.
A dehydrated destination where cowardice and hypocrisy lived.
Hiding behind a cloth of worthless justifications,
none that fit the end.
Words blanket the bleeding and feed your need to move again.
Giving you the illusions desired
to breath again.
Your intake leaves stains on your lungs as dirty
as the smoke that quiets the nerves.
Your veil is ugly.
Cursing your future… just as you wished,
and feeding so deeply into the plight of self-destruction; what you’re comfortable with.
The bridge is wobbling beneath your feet and can’t last forever.
Dive or swim, whichever brings you to a quicker end.
It’s a slow fade of pale blue and a dry heave that doesn’t know how to exhale the sun.
Your name is destruction.
Big words in pale skin. Mediocre execution with a flawed and fading pen.
The cross hangs heavy on your back, dragging through the sand, and offering no place
for you to land.
It will be your glimmer of success and then your beloved
The thing you grip till you bleed and the filler of that nagging
You, a quiet storm.
Me, a passing wave.
I’ve risen… again and again. Leaving your empty vessel
at the ocean’s bend.
It will sink there, no matter the redemption,
It’s your self-predetermined
Every day that passes
you float on
a once forgivable sin.
But every moment you waste,
you get buried again.
The forever dying
you’re most comfortable in.