Thrill of Nothingness

When did I lose myself?

Would it have been long ago,

when I cave in to an evil emptiness

mistakenly darker than my own?

Or shortly after,

sealing a promising deal 

no better than throwing pearls to swines?

Maybe following short,

when I was taking for an identity of my own

that of anyone who allowed my raw fingers

to tight a loose grip on them?

Perhaps soon later, when

stripped of my own will power,

obliviously stuck in a exitless room,

I saw a gleam of hope,

an opportunity to breathe. 

And what had been a joke

Became a ghostly commitment,

There only for I to see,

with poisoned chains

under flowers picked 

by no one other than me.

Whatever it may be,

I wonder now,

What is possibly left of me?

Drumsticks of a (once) Sunny Day

Why missing you is a crime I'm silently commiting... 

and committing it alone?

Like memories that are nothing but nice clouds in the sky,

dissolving into a rain
that doesn't refresh the ground
but only stains it with blood and tears.

A hope for days of a future long past;
Illusion of fortunate laughs,

and sunny beats...

A hug from the universe

and a bass of all the
highbars under our feet.

The everything once ours,

but which is now just

wishful hopes, long lasting dreams;
Reality tossing memories,

like shards of 

broken drumsticks

in a bottomless, sour bitter sea. 

(mis)Impressions

I'm feeling something
but I don't know what it is.
I'd normally guess it's hunger
but I just had something to eat.

It's also not anxiety,
for that's always with me;
and this started last night
when my heart in a different rhythm started to beat.

It got me smiling
and daydreaming for a bit...

But then I remembered reality,
where all of this truly started,
and at once I was reminded,
that perhaps I was misreading
an unusual pleasantry
for a wishful dream;
as if taking for my missing half
someone who could just be
another version of me.