Silent Summer Somewhere Within The 2000's Of Recorded Time

the drugs were strong when

they put me under. my

yellow recorded the time

while under anesthesia.

he knows

me.

he knows i'll need to

know the exact amount

of time that i gave

to the nothingness—

wasted

life.

i told him [while under

the blue] that i sometimes

feel as though this is

my world.

and i—

i sometimes feel as

though i manifested you

all.

maybe that's the point

of being lonely—

in another sense of

the word.

maybe we're all just

living in each others'

manifested worlds

waiting for patterns

waiting for signs

waiting for the

so-called apocalypse.

i wait for nothing but death,

and you're all not far behind.

Nesting Doll on American Soil

I've become too common,

disoriented among booze

and reality T.V.—

but

I needed that.

I needed to be mindless

like others. This pen

screams otherwise.

It screams of wasted

metaphors and unrequited

life—

Lortabs corrupt my mind

like A Clockwork Orange

on Sundays.

Like open-mic nights

on Wednesdays.

I fucked up trying to be

[so] common. My curtains

drape the window as if

they never met the floor—

I surround my windowed cage.

I am caged

within a cage

within a cage

within a cage,

[a Russian babushka doll]

and the doors remain closed,

and the window remains clear.