The constant repetitive ringing
Inside of my head has heightened so much
That I can not distinguish anymore
Between the incidents of the
Past or the present.
to cease this repetitive ringing
I write out a lament in Letraset
on lost feelings, past memories,
Unreturned affection, phone call
Lingering remnants of the people lost
in a blue metal flume
All that I attest,
All that I resent.
in apropos to the lament
I am unbecoming all the people
I have been over the years,
Going back on all my slants on all the
New age crap on neo - Libertinism,

How nothing feels static anymore;
Everything around me, everyone around me
Seems so prone to change, so fleeting
My disdain for the notion

 How an artist needs
To suffer for their ar
in this Anthropocene age,
Where frivolous conversations
And a relentless fog of belligerence
Run rampant.
I have spent way too many
Febrile hours
on vernacular balconies
And parties doomscrolling
Enthralled on barbiturates
or in a meandering dalliance
With emotionally unavailable women.
This whole past year
I have blurred and burnt through
so many vicarious emotions
Maybe vicarious is not the right word here,
Think how it would feel if you had a scalpel
Plunged perpetually in your pulmonary artery,
Then, think of the opposite
of being stabbed in your quadriceps
on a foreign road,
Then keep thinking until you
Start feeling disjointed
Then, give up.
I have spent my whole postpubescent years
Turning all my resentments inward
Which has now caused
My memories to waver in between

A distilled nightmare
A dream so perfect
Harbouring the places and the people
I have ever yearned for
A nightmare so real
That I let myself get caught up in it.
Only for it to slip away
And no longer seem
as endlessly pleasant or dewy-eyed
as it did in that split-second visceral moment.
With the street lights flickering
in a stalemate,
I have grown overly sentimental
And as I slowly start to lose consciousness
A veil that turned bright fuchsia
While back, that reminds me
How it is okay for things and
People to not come back
Eventually, they all will-