Some Were Betrayed

I've never been one to give up on a sequence, and I'll be damned if I do it now. Day 26, you're up, you bastard.

On Finding Out

Just when we thought it couldn’t get blacker,

the sun goes down.

A sickness blisters.

The ceiling holds an indefinable answer,

though to stare

is to let the minutes

tremble from your eyes.

They loop the neck to strangle,

every breath less real in its certainty.

What have we been doing all these year?

The faded games of unknowing

sound in our ears

as uncontrolled explosions,

taking us by surprise

like lost cities.

Like the noises we make

when we’re dying.

The Bitch of Living

What's that I hear you cry, dear readers? Do I have another morose poem for you today? Why yes I do! Soz about all the feelings, guys...I'm in the grip of one of life's major heartbreaks. I ain't the first and by sure as heck ain't gon' be the last, but it's apparently manifesting itself through my work (and the monotonous hours of crying and wanting to vomit), so you're just going to have to DEAL, right? Right. I'm glad we're on the same page. Literally! LOL, see, I can still be funny! *insert fart noise*. 

Day 25, whut whut!

Dull Days

The clock is harbouring secrets.

What time was it you left?

When was I really alive?

Happiness is a temporary disguise.

Underneath it we are all in the clutches of longing,

longing for that underappreciated past.

We can say, “Today was a good day.

I did not cry,” but what does that mean, really?

I had forgotten how good it felt

to taste water after a meal.

So much has changed.

One day, we will wonder

where these days went,

wonder why we sprinkled them away

like salt from clammy fingertips.

The threads, once so tightly woven,

are working their way loose.

We grow slack with despair.