Weight of the World

  My pleas doesn't fall on deaf ears, they're muted by my own psyche.
I'm drowning in a tub made from my own tears.

  I don't know how to be beautiful.
I don't know how to be everything, all the time. But I need to be, otherwise I'm not worth it...

  Shatter the colors, to let in the etheromaniacs. Grind them under the heels of war within.
Pulverize until it becomes Basuco, candy for the Succubus.

  Impressions of depression imprint on ancient wood, to be seen by Gods and Artists.

  Black ink has decimated the Gallery of Memory. It drips from my cheeks, on to the painted armory.

  Letting go of Sunlight Silk, to sail away from my hands, to Sahara. Weighted down by the rain, as the Cobalt clings to my movement. Entering Heaven, heel to toe toward the getaway car.

  Hand painted plaid, turned into heart beats. My breath halted, to make perfection. Mass produced, and manufactured, until it stayed that way.

  People are people, and sometimes we don't work out. Nothing I do is going to save us from the Fall out. I know it's never simple, never easy. Never a clean stitch, no one here to repair me. But I'm the only thing I know, like a China pattern on parade.

  I have to do this alone, but the system was built for two. They dropped the world on my back, I wish I was made of glass. To break under the weight, maybe then I can fly to the million and one of you.

  I'll be invisible as you take in a breath. Engulfed and blown away, without a single thought. The last two words of the page, is all that would be said of me; at end of the world.