Chapter One: The I, Tiffany = egomaniac?

Draw a hallow breath.
Command myself those pretty implications.
Pretend like I am unflustered and composed.
Contain the roar inside.
I am seeking to defeat myself.
As the battle rips through my rib cage.
Dead center.
Like a thousand clots,
causing an ingested heart attack
or a single air bubble,
that travels at a promoting velocity,
straight to my brain cells.
Cannot reckon but I
continue to brainstorm
continue to shut down
till I hit that freeway to a stroke
perverting my smile
reconstructing my reality
Eternally in search
for that wretched truth.

Chapter One: The past

Cold sweat scampers and trembles along my neck,
taunting my peace,
leaving my thoughts in a utter wreck.
Destiny and dreams are a man’s desires.
But like all things that dwell,
it must depart and expire.
Hope dies a slow, sedated death of individual degrees.
It is like a green astounding leaf without its mother tree.
The leaf shrivels and pleads for its source of survival.
Only finds a man’s shoe to be its murderer
before knowing its rival.
My aspiration is similar to these forgotten leaves.
My soul claimed for what was to be mine,
fool to the word: thieves.
They stole my rights to untroubled memories and my youth.
My eyes suddenly opened to see the blinding ugly truth.
The sight of hideous crimes and the soreness of morality.
Worst they robbed my soul and I was no longer able to face reality.

Chapter One: Through the looking glass

In the thick pitch-black habit of defective mates,

muted lights appear like brilliant sunrays.

So we all settle like the cheating wealth at court.

Bitter, saturated stones press onto my nerves

and that fictitious heat ignites my nape

Like cocaine-rubbed gums, the mouth is stoic.

It becomes effortless to believe your deception

And you fancy my soul for your hunger

My dirt-cheap soul to procure

in exchange for that short lived sensation of

desperately desired devotion,

even if it is barely for an instant.