Time's end.

This will be now taken down.

Nobody will be able to read your thoughts on a daily basis.

It is time to stop whining.

It is time to shut up.

It is time, to sew.

Time to weld mask to flesh.

Time to be silent.

Time to welcome what you fear.

It is time.

This is the final entry of this blog.

Virus & Toxic

You can feel the noose tighten, can't you?
Time is running out.
Hear the sounds fade.
Time is running out.
Your time is nigh,
Time to finally die.

No matter how hard you run, the reflection will always catch up.
No matter how many meds you take and therapy you see, you will always be: me.
We are two halves of the same coin. You can't separate us. We are one and one are we, open your eyes and see.
There is no escape your own hand, so take light in it. Know your days are numbered to the ones on your fingertips, and stop grasping the sand.

No time to live, no time to be merry.
No time to wonder if this is a medications effect.
You will fall. by your own hand.
And nobody can catch your skin made of sand.
You will be alone. Because that's what you are.
Time will move on.
People will forget.
and you, will be nothing more than a tombstone in a forgotten graveyard.

Good bye cyrus. Your time is coming to and end.
Hope you said all your good-byes.
because its time to start believing the truth, and abandon your lies.
Nobody can help you. Nobody can or would.

So good bye, little meat puppet. it's been a good play. Now say good bye to your very last day.

All hallows Eve.

'Twas the night before christmas,
not a noise was heard.
Although one was sleepless,
but never said a word.

He typed and he gamed,
He strummed and he played
whatever might ease his mind.
None could bring peace to the boy,
so for christmas he wished for a toy,
one which he could easily find.

It would have bells and whistles,
but skin as rough as thistles,
and would wield eyes to stare into his soul.
Whenever the boy would look,
he would wonder what It took,
to turn his insides into coal.

How he wanted to re-write the Book of Time
but alas he has run out of rhyme.
So for now, we must end with a cliff.
For your minds only, this boy will soon become a stiff.

What Will

What will become?
What will rise anew?

What will I be?

What will happen to this bum?

What will be told of this shrew?

What will he see?

I find myself lacking answers, but plentiful of fear. I wish to know the Void, of the darkness that grows near. I wish to maintain Stasis but know of the reality. I am merely a child for now, lacking depth in all totality.

So let's make this holiday season better than ones in the past.

Because you never know, if this season, is your last.

Realizations.

My eyes opened to a foreign room, scanning for the source of noise that demanded attention. I stumbled over and looked at my phone as the source of noise. It jingled to alert me of an incoming text.
The words sank like stone weights in the ocean of my vision.
My friend asked what was the matter, but it was too late. My Facade was already in place.

My hand opened the door to the doctor's lobby, the festival decorations adding almost a scent of familiarity. I heard my name called up to the front desk, and listened as I was told of my lack of money for even a simple visit. I walked out into the overcast light to await my ride. I found myself wearing the Understanding Face.

My ears pricked when I heard the raised voice coming from the person at the end of the hall. I walked towards it filled with curiosity. I stood behind the raised voice as I watched siblings bicker and yell. I smiled at one bash his head against the door, trying to calm down. Shortly after he left to release his anger, I knocked on the door and played the Pied Piper Mask.

I found myself before the mirror once more, my mask still in place. I tried to pull it off but saw it left no trace. I pried and pulled and tugged and told myself it was merely a mask for the task at hand.
I looked at my reflection and let out a laugh. I saw it all. The truth was sadistically Divine: I was a Personified Punchline!

Spiralistic Vomit

The grinning fool is no tool, but the old man is the miser. Through time and age and dampening ones rage will thee become the wiser.
Smiles painted on stretched skin. Spirals etched where thine Memory has been.
Go down the staircase little boy, be quick, there in a flash!
Down the ring of Fire, Just like Jhonny Cash.
Don't grab the rusted railing or you'll be sailing to the bottom floor.
Yet the more you go down, the sooner you'll be no more.

Hear the screams from down below
Feel your fear fill you from head to toe.
You always were a Violent.
now become Eternally Silent.
Let his smile ring out your fate,
For now you're going to meet yer maker of late.

Pessimistic Hope

I would like to be able to do great things, accomplish mini-feats. I would like to be able to create worlds of fantasy and wonder for other people to create characters in, and build environments to help illustrate them. To be a master storyteller.
I would like to be able to write pieces of literature that would make the reader afraid to sleep, and of putting the book down. To cause them to be afraid of the dark once more.
I would like to be able to act well enough that it could actually be a job for me, as well as one of my preferred method of an outlet.
I would like to be able to stomach the image of myself as well as my own thoughts.
But I cant do any of these things.
But perhhaps in time, I will be able to get close to any of them.

I hope one day to meet my own Boogeyman.