angst

at the end,
all our posturing,
all the effort,
is to counteract that one lonely question:
if i wasn't here,
would anyone care?

different

we are different,
the same in things that matter.
our cores
speak to each other,
our centers are the same.
the counterpoint.
we finish each other's...

yeah, fuck that sentance.
let's tear up the surface
and get down to what
matters.

shackle.

happiness is a shackle,
anchoring my ankle to
the sinking ship of committment
gone sour years before -

happiness is a chain
tying me to the lost cause
of acceptance and contentment,
where will is just a memory.

happiness is a weight
in the ocean, dragging me
down into the darkness,
where there is no hope for change.

happiness is the lie
we tell our children, and never
grow out of -
as we drown in the tedium of life,
we cannot understand
why the shore is still miles away.