A dose of injected rope.

Gut wrenched with a centre left blooded

a spine stabbed to a mouth that's scarlet flooded

turned the red tongue to a Devil that thinks wrong

just sing songs that the ends the same with days prolonged

an infected clock of flatlined ticks and tocks

sounding alarms on the mental blocks of doors locked

of damned dos and don'ts upon the social notes

of crossed out hope that's replaced with the capitalized NOPE.

A lethal dose atop a steadily declined slope.

Story board.

 Story born from back to knees and kneels to feet

of a soft coloured heart beneath bewildering heat

for who or what was feated beyond the defeat 

is all but decided, by the narration of times receipt.

A game until the unknown.

 Lost a will to speak, looking meek

absent of life circles around like I'm smelling reek 

of joy coloured grey within a tortured mind that reidentified everything as bleak

where every peak is counted feet of how fast is the ground I can meet

to look like mincemeat upon the concrete 

so I stay in a panic stricken seat, with a view of candy lines on repeat

like deja vu of what it's like to constantly lose the game of trick or treat

a meet-and-greet where I lost everything sweet

a mistreated mind born for an athlete with a body of a deadbeat

where my inside runs empty but yet I feel incomplete  

I wonder if death's heart beats as I pray for deletion to a soulful retreat,

there I go again, with the repeat of, slowly losing everything sweet.

 

Mind less.

Only, for feeling low was always before combined for a lonely combo

but I'll reap what I sow and re-rip the holes just so I can learn to sew

for I could never see the wood for the trees or green pastures for the crows

so I try to fertilize barren land and irrigate holding a water hose

and wonder why I'm constantly up shits creek without a paddle just giving blood to the mosquitos

so I stay stagnant with the flow and with the hope that the grass will grow

but I can't help but stay ready with the hoe for I know only the weeds will show.

A safe space was never designed, so who could I also assign 

so I have to study up on the signs, so I never fall back beyond the line of what confines

for I've redefined the sweet taste of wine to but fruitless vines of tendrils that climb

into a soul that died of no life, just spending time giving CPR to the divine

a fools errand waiting for wounds to dry from trying to hold onto porcupines 

that pierce deep inside, so I stay with the rhymes of a wish that goes beyond mine

but all I can see is the eventual decline of anything that has the potential to reach sublime.