Everett Hampton

My clouds,
They fall and graze my cheeks,
And slice my coat,
From the outside in.

The cotton spews,
And out like foam,
A single dying sheep.
With a leash connected to my chest.

I opened my door this week,
The first time in months.
It was locked but I easily broke it.
Cobwebs fell from the handle.

My eyes bled from the intense light,
And a sudden boom from the sonic noise.
I am awake and in the world,
No longer behind closed doors.

But I feel as if my demons taunt me,
They follow and haunt me.
For the air I breathed that I thought was wisdom,
Is nothing more than a lie projected from them.

The air I breathed that I thought was wisdom,
Was not enough to crush that one thought.
The thought of not knowing, and the pain it causes,
The thought of what happened.

And I said to him,
‘Wake up, we have to build the bridge.’
He woke up but his hands were missing,
And so were the tools.

Convenient.

So I said to him,
'We will just have to take the river,
And of course we’ll stay shallow.’
Not that we were ever that deep anyway.

I walked up to a burning building to find what it had seen,
‘Don’t ask, Don’t tell. Don’t ask, Don’t tell.
But in all honesty I wanted to end it all. And fall and fall.’
And it all flew past and crashed right next to me,
The steel, the glass, all miscellaneous debris.
'My heart is aching you see, She’s gone and left me’
Still not saying a word I reach into my pocket,
And pull out a barely functional stop watch.
'I’ll count the minutes it takes for you to fall,
and if I ever meet her, she’ll know the pain that she caused.’

Hope makes me a foolish man,

I hope I stay foolish forever.

Into pieces,
Their bodies shattered.
As the devil wakened,
Within a glass delusion.

So I don’t feel ashamed sleeping.

Saying goodbye to friends today. Leaving tomorrow… today technically. I’m excited but I feel so shit at the same time.

I suffocated the last of the forest trees,
And melted the rocky glaziers to the sea.
I gripped and pulled the tallest mountains,
Crashing them down on the populated plains.

And there I stood, The last to speak of mankind.
The last man on earth.

She tiptoes through the seams,
Of her very own cyanide dream.

My whole life, once consuming the better half of my room,
Now fits neatly into a carry on luggage bag and one cardboard box.
What I am as a person, my whole personality seems drained,
And I feel this is now me, at this point in my life.

Onwards I shall grow further in this vast world.
It is time to move on.

It is what it is, but today it isn’t.

When you should feel so content,
But instead feel so dead and empty.

I torture those who read this.

Reaching through the sugar cane,
To watch a life, and your life I saw.
As gust of wind picked me,
And threw me at your door.