Brown grass and gray skies

Non-punctuated, non-edited, non-drafted. As rough as they come.

Am I ashamed of being alive?
Socialisation spat in mounds.
Leaves me screaming, solitary, dumbfuck
Parade the mirror for countless hours.

What is the meaning of this?
Semi-important lives leave semi-important tears.
If you are crying then you are living.
Albeit in a stinking, corpse-filled hell.

A grave I dug once upon a time,
Deepened by the alcohol washing out my veins
Am I losing my mind?
Your voice like a muffle infused with absurdity

Draw a noose upon your hand,
And the tree where they waited for Godot
Dictate that they should have killed themselves,
Ah, did they ever kill themselves?

Wait for nothing to happen, nor work, nor progress,
Took a long, large look at this life
I saw brown grass and gray skies,
A countless queue of ways to end being you.

What use a man to a mute, lonely worm.
A confidence shying in a brick cupboard
Parading your sense of being on the world,
A pretentious image of myself left hazy

I make no impression on you, it is wrong
To make an impression on me
Withering doubt and infinite ugliness
Conform to my list or you are dead

Left in the centre of the main street
Not at the foot of the bridge, where I can't be seen
Skim the outskirts of this abomination,
A staring contest with the ground

A fantasy of flashing images,
Broken bathroom mirrors, horizontal scars
Smashing heads off tables,
Deep wounds across a forehead

I zoned out,
Little by little,
Cell by cell,
Sound by sound
No memory of anything.