Deaths hour

At night, is impossible to mantain your thoughts in line.

At three o' clock
In the morning
The city succumbs
To it's shadows.
An empty feeling settles
On the earths crust.
And a car without destination
Can be heard in the distance.

A man clenching the poison of his own sorrows,
Wishes the bottle
Killed quicker
As he sways side by side
In the sidewalk

The streets are blurred
With artificial yellow.
The mist converting them
Into the source of your blindness.
Making open your eyes
Seem pointless.

Cold sweeps through the fabrics of your clothes,
Even tho June
Can be found
Arounf the corner.

And if you pass by the coast
You can find the recent graduates standing too close
To the edge of the cliff,
Staring at the abyss that grows beneath their feet,
Gaze holding both desperation and tranquility,
With a crushing pressure
Pilinh up on their shoulders.

And solitude invades,
And silence inundates.

And to avoid drowning,
Your thoughts come raw.
Clawing through phrases full of darkness
Only to find the surface weigh with bitter air,
Impossible to swallow.

You speak with your own reflection.
Their teeth showing,
But they are not comforting.
And Getting lost in your own mind
Becomes inevitable.

Words like bullets
Penetrate through your skull,
Through your arms,
Through your legs,
Through your chest.

Falling into the ocean
you once escaped,
Breathing is not an option.
And you can feel death,
Laying its hand
On your shoulder

Author's Note

I made this yesterday at 1 am. Wired time to get inspired. Any thoughts?

Reviews

[StrixNebulosa]

A slow desperation is what this makes me feel. It has a harsh elegance and that is always good.

[Nicole]

Thank you :)