-Ink-

Line approaching line
End apprehending end
Inching closer and closer
Windows closing
Exhaling impaired judgement
Like father like son
A replica more flawed than the archetype
Hoping desperately my pen runs dry
While procuring more and more ink.

Put the period on this sick fucking run on sentence

And I can't blame you
For what you've been dealt
The sting of neglect
A mother's love unfelt
But where do I turn when I feel the same?
This is a shared burden, no passing on the blame.

Line approaching line
End apprehending end
Inching closer and closer
Windows closing
Exhaling impaired judgement
Like father like son
A replica more flawed than the archetype
Hoping desperately my pen runs dry
While procuring more and more ink.
Scribing the same sentence
again and again
Will the circle remain unbroken?

-Grip-

[Instrumental]

-Ruin-

Trapped within the realm of sleep;
A world awake, and I still dream.
If you should find me
and I refuse to stir
My reoccurring nightmare has come true:
The lines have blurred.
Be it dreams, be it reality, my subconscious keeps it’s foot to my throat.
Please release me from the ties that bind.
There’s no escaping this horrible place in my mind.

A place where my doubts and my fears are suspended in time.
Where self-conclusion seems so divine.

A place I would never want to be.
(line approaching line)
The dark, disgusting part of me.
Line approaching line.
End apprehending end.

-Bereft-

Vodka on your breath.
Heart devoid of dreams.
Hope that left so long ago.
Mangled by paternity.

Wine on your breath.
Mouth full of hate.
Hope that left so long ago.
Mangled by maternity.

The apple falls directly below the tree.
But the tree is dead
Which leaves the apple
Rotten as can be.

Wary me.
Parry me.
Carry me.
Bury me.

(Line approaching line.
End apprehending end.)

Bright futures thrown away
In the name of an escape
Words from aspiring artists
Replaced by silent mouths agape

Nights forgotten,
Vice begotten.

Wary me.
Parry me.
Carry me.
Bury me.

(Line approaching line.
End apprehending end.)

Bereft behest.

An authors voice
Silenced on a blank page.

Numbing the sting
Of inadequacy.
Unfair exchange:
Thought for naught
. Leaning on crutches
Meant for killing slowly
Now you can only bide your time

The apple falls
Directly below the tree
But the tree is dead
Which leaves the apple
Rotten as can be

Rotten.

Fertile, though rotten through.
Germination begins as corrupt seeds
spread their sickness through the landscape; Infecting all.

-Outcome-

Incisions
Too shallow
To remove
What ails me
Lacerations
Too meager
To render
(my) Consciousness

Predisposed
Juxtaposed
Undisclosed
Illness throes
Hindering my
Progression
Stagnancy
Defeats me

Despite my best efforts,
This exchange died years ago
So much wasted love and remorse
Spent clinging to the corpse.

Rot.
I will bury the debt,
But I will no longer mourn the dead.
In spite of all of this,
i surely hope your words meant well more often than not.
But either way, I say we let them fucking rot.

(Alone in my thoughts)
Worshipping
My sickness.
Dependence
On sadness
Brings me nothing
But the same
Consequence
Same outcome
Day by day;
descending.
Sinking deep
down the drain
No heroics,
let me drown.

-Monkton-

Shadows under my eyes darken with the passing of light.
Warm turns to cold turns to black.
Black remains until warm fights back.

On the warmest days
On the coldest nights
I found my home in your eyes.

Sleep
Would come sporadically,
Waking me erratically.
Inward reflection
Offers the ugliest sight.

I’ve watched the lines on my face grow like shadows at day’s end.
And I’ve lost control, I wander alone
Until in your eyes, I found my home.

On the warmest days
On the coldest nights
I found my home in your eyes.

And if our happiest moments are truly seldom to linger,
then I know i’ve watched them fade away with you.

On the warmest days
On the coldest nights
I found my home in your eyes.

-Naught-

Fall away. As we'll do.
The strings are tugged and taught. Fraying with my demeanor.

Wisps and whispers float along
Captive in infinity.

I can only hope to hear her's.
I can only hope to feel her's.

Smolder out. As we'll do.
She sings her songs of naught.
And I'm praying that I'll hear her.

Wisps and whispers float along
Captive in infinity.

She sings her songs of naught.
And I'm praying that I'll hear her.

-Augury-

Fall away
As we'll do
Smolder out
As we'll do

I spent so much time staring at the ceiling
that in my daze
with my head raised
I never looked down to see the writing on the wall

I watched you pulling away
while reassuring me of your involvement.
Ex-communicate.

Not a single bit of effort for you.
Fuck.

After all is said and done,
We never fought, and nobody won.
And at first we grew together

But you were only here for fair weather.

I held you up so high,
Put you on a pedestal.
But you let your love die.
And now you'll fall down.

To the fucking cement.
To the hell that you've kept me in.

After all is said and done,
I am still my father's son.
With my mother tongue unspoken
The circle remains unbroken

The augury
I was too blind to see.

-Onset-

[Instrumental]

-Anhedonia Pt. 1-

Love of mine
I've come to hate
Such animosity
you create.

Hateful glances at my reflection
To man in the mirror:
I abhor you now
You are the antithesis

I’ll now collate,
Reiterate
To deconstruct
And reinstate
My thoughts of you
Remain askew
Despite assuaging, start anew

Discussed in disgust
This distrust
Conceived deceit
Constructs defeat

Alone in my thoughts... again.

Love of mine
I've come to hate
Such animosity
you create.

The thoughts inate
That now gestate
Here I fixate
As I abate.

Hands that used to dance
with fingers intertwined
Now seem to pay advance
no single shred of mind

How far will you lead me and
how far will I lead myself?

To the brink of madness.
Am I the only one at fault?

Sinking into myself now
Drowning in speculation and conjecture
Have i lost my mind?
Alone in my thoughts
As time and space
Attempt to erase
Everything I’ve loved
Anhedonia.

-Anhedonia Pt. 2-

Line approaching line
End apprehending end
Inching closer and closer
Windows closing
Exhaling impaired judgement
Like father like son
A replica more flawed than the archetype
The apple falls directly below the tree
but the tree is dead

which leaves the apple rotten as can be.
Hoping desperately my pen runs dry
While procuring more and more ink.
Scribing the same sentence
again and again
Will the circle remain unbroken?

A good man grows cold.
With every knife
And every arrow
With every obstacle
Some say character is built

A good man grows old
With every failure
And every regret
With every goodbye
Some say he gains wisdom

Here stands our good man, alone, shattered and bleeding
From every mistake
every betrayal
And every lesson learned
A good man as good as dead.