Only One that Feels Like Home Gone

I'm too tired to do anything. I can't even lift a pen and write because I'm afraid I might write nothingness. The fatal mystery is that I know what's the beginning of this yet I don't know how come it still has an impact after all those times of solitude to dread.

I feel so slow, so low and down remembering those painful catastrophic things that I know I wasn't the one to touch first. I don't want to condemn the fresh remainders of those who breathe freedom and pride, pretending nothing's wrong in a very different manner. I don't know if such feel the same. I think I'm beginning to be coward. I already told you no matter what will the outcome be, it will altogether result to suffering. I don't want to lose my principles at the same time losing my marbles. Maybe this is an abominable depression, depression to emptiness. I started to feel that I don't like this aymore. I don't like my life.

It's good that even if I only see darkness, I could still peep into patches and holes with light inside along the way that I know I'm not capable of getting there. I call them ephemeral happiness. Some things that made me laugh and medicate yet still can't bear to defeat the agony I feel under. I'm all for believing it will still develop and be still, yet when I see something related to the unworthy shells, I turn to dive with the soul of whisperers telling me formidable truths. It hurts so much when I started to sense this sudden joys won't help me evolve with a better persona and won't even try to save me from falling under the unknown black cliff.

I appeal frightened in everything now.

Pass the Coffee

I won't tell you
I am ceaseless of being
liable of passing the
coffee

It seemed a distant
to reach the lanterns

Without faith in words
I lost the vital
perception of euphemism

The patches of ebony
I started to feel

The down slide was gruesome
it felt heat and flying
to the world, little room
I am punished by heart

I was found
by the grim of blindness

I wasn't told the coffee has two ways

The tires were uneasy
to change in directions
I was wrong to listen
for the please was lost

I was unscathed
by the skeptical emptiness

I saw a thirsty rock
I forgot about the
coffee that I passed

somewhere I keep
on remembering, but
unable to trust to recall
I should have given

the coffee with a
different hue

it might meant
it's stronger

than me

Is there such feeling greater that hatred? It caused this wreck. I don't want to lose hope and ask what kind of life did the heavens gave me... yet.