Always Been Almost

Break,
like the crash of a crystal orb ten feet below,
a future now done with.
Wounded, crawling out of the mess,
I lay chained
in a web of disgust and hatred,
of cowardice and voids.
The voids in my head;
the voids that prove nothing more of you,
than stupidity and abandonment.
Clawing my nails into dirt,
I'll see with broken eyes,
not standing tall the image I'm supposed to be.
A mere illusion,
an illusion, running for my life,
the final race,
running
from myself.

I don't like you..

The words resound in the damp halls of my mind,
like stuck tape that wouldn't budge,
truth being I don't like me much either.

Shiver and weep till pants get wet,
so ashamed.
That I'd kill myself, if only I didn't feel
like I didn't deserve a blade to cut with.

Weak excuses..

Perhaps an inkling to live,
even as I lay fragmented on the floor,
you spit upon,
but more to stain and crumple,
than glue me back together with.

Amidst thoughts of murder, runaways, suicides
and being crushed under a truck,
I'm stuck again.

Like I've always been,
Stuck.

Once again, adrift on this crossway
of smoke and grime, dust and filth.
Clinging like a robe around my flesh,
I'm left standing, confused with a wet finger up,
waiting for the wind to blow.

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And I've always been almost..
But I've never been there...