Submissions by thelivingdoorway

Destroy the original
To create a caricature
A walking, breathing funeral
A cadaver somewhat conscious
Tunnel vision foresight
Another fucking escapist
Nothing but a passing memory
A stain on the surface

Write your own obituary
Attend your own Wake
Write your own obituary
Tell them all your mistakes

You're dead anyway.

Behold, Jupiter.
A storm-driven angel to guide my way
Towards the nebula and stars
Towards galaxies beyond ours
Yet these destinations are far away.

The speeds that our ships traverse
Are fast, but not fast enough
A cryogenic coma for all of us
To awaken in the depths of the universe.
Behold, Beyond.

Planetary colonization is our mission
Fear and worry are commonplace
A millennium traveling in dead space
Away from the ghosts of nuclear fission.

Through opioid narrows
I traverse ever softly,
In the clouds, ever lofty
I go to my home.
Cannabinoid delirium,
A Lysergic imperium
Alkaline embraces
I feel in my bones.
Entangled I am, in this
Web of insanity
A welcoming exit from throes
Of reality.
No place to go
No one to know
With nothing to show,
I go back to my home.  

Six forty-five in the morning.
Another mark on the calendar
Another gleam of hope at redemption.
Fuck it.
Why start something you know you won't finish?

I pushed everyone away,
And I want to care, but
I don't know if I can.
Who needs a father,
When you've got whiskey?

Seven twenty-two in the morning.
Dad tried to call last night.
I ignored it, like I usually do.
Is it shame? or is it hate?
It's been hard to tell since Mom died.
What's the point?
She didn't stick it out either.

Eight in the...