Mediocre never looked so nice

I feel like I got robbed

By the perfect criminal.

Worth more than gold

my affection, acknowledged,

 and promptly snuffed out.

I’ve been robbed

by a thief whose face I know,

but have never seen.

I have no rights however,

wrapped in self-pity

 I lost the chance I never had.

To all the lovers who took from me,

asked for keeps only to return damaged,

which way is the exit?

I don’t think I can afford this anymore.

The sun breaks through the slats of the white faux wood window blinds, rays hitting my face ever so gently. I toss betwixt my sheets wondering which thief hustled off with my shut-eye and how could they possibly make time fly that fast? As my feet hit the ground I shudder, I forgot what it feels like to not soar. The rough ground makes me question getting out of bed today. I stand for a moment only to sit back down, I sit for a long while; the day grows long outside my window. I can sleep just a little bit longer.

I am growing a shell,

of drugs, sex, lies, and hurt.

It grows heavy on my back, making it difficult to,

lurch onwards.   

With my vice as my armor

I wave my axe (handle of whiskey, blade sharp as my sober mind),

oblivious to the fact that my enemies seem to shed my own blood.

Our friendship appears fleeting
Anger often crashes down
in a sea of hostility
But the tide will recede,
like it always does
Leaving faint marks in the sand
and salt on our toes

I never thought I would be left unscathed
but I didn’t know I would bruise this bad
I still bite my tongue
and swallow my thoughts.
Defending you to the death
Mine, not yours

Tilt sideways, my words tower above
yet leave gaps and spaces
between nouns and verbs
for doubt to hide, and breed
now there are more of them than me.

But even after all this,
the bruise you left never hurt more
until you walk out that door.

this must be what it feels like to get used.