Every day I miss you more
every moment another part of my heart dies
I’m trying not to forget this,
but desperately I want to know,
if I just have to run like
from a black dog
away
from these thoughts
through the whole rest
of my life.
I don’t feel like I can talk to anyone;
all you ever do is listen.
And when you say something,
you don’t say it right,
and how could I ask for that?
And do you know why I know that deep down,
I can’t be a good person?
I don’t want to talk to you for the same reason,
my friend.
Mate,
I’m just desperately clawing at straws.
I feel infinitely alone and
no human being
I meet will make that up to me.
One hour of distraction
and then I give it up most of the time,
for what’s the trouble?
For a few hours?
I’d like to be dead
I’m just thinking about it these days.
Everything seems to be going uphill,
But I just don’t care,
as disillusioned as I feel
and bitter to the blood, I identify so much with my sadness,
But not even that is completely accurate,
I wonder what I would like to have and I know
I can’t have it
even though I had show
I would work for it.
I know what I need.
I guess despair is the word.
No one can say anything,
No one’s really trying.
The main thing is to have nothing to blame yourself for
And I just want my head
to stop tormenting me with contingencies.
Yes, it sounds completely incomplete:
But I don’t want to be alone in this world anymore.
Poetry just perverts love.
But rationally,
I feel alone for the rest of my time,
Because I’m alone.
And I can’t take it anymore to speak with these superficial
anxious
ignorant and
heartless women,
who are so rarely honest with themselves
that whenever they catch themselves
talking from heart
they hold their hands in front of their mouths
so nothing more escapes
lost to the void.
I can’t bear to think about it.
that I have to give the little heart that I left,
for something that never wants to make me complete.
and basically I just wants to talk to her
and have a growing feeling about it.
But I guess I’m not human.
I am an information unit
a blind resource,
that I’d love to have a heart,
for what I can’t see
and that seems to be
everything
which is beautiful.
John D.Dexter 