why won't anyone pick up the phone?

he has been calling for our help. We tend to ignore his muffled cries.
He no longer wants to be here. He wants to disappear, but he still tries.
Tries to be alive for the people who need him, and love him.
Lately it seems like no one does, an accident disrupts the theme.
He is so far gone into his mind, he remains a sinking feeling.
All he wants is to start anew, he fades, skin peeling.
the walls have have him locked and gone.
he tries to find the right song.
The canary has died, and he is only a memory.
Why reach for the sky when he won't achieve such glory.
the tears flood and moisten his fragile face.
he still ponders and wonders if he is just a basket case.
He wonders if he will be buried in the ground.
Or incinerated without a sound.
He has gone past the plan.
He is a ghost, no longer a man.

untitled

where have my thoughts gone?
they packed their bags and left me here empty all.
Full of nothing...
Full of nothing done, nothing achieved, nothing to do.
A lethargic tragic sentiment
has build a wall i can't climb.
A hole I can' crawl off.
I am so very scared.
I got no one to hold, no hand is reaching down.
The darkness lets one light on.
It blinds me.
it kills me.
I drown, and drown and i fucking die.

Le monde est beau

The world is beautiful but i am not. I have been called ugly by society's rejects, and by life's cruel youth. They pointed at me and laughed. I always bottle it up, and let it build inside of me. I have learned to accept their criticisms, and i have also start believing their hurting words. But baby, tonight we are 2 drops of rain so far away, and we are both beautiful. Let's play and pretend a relationship. Fake an orgasm for my sake, make me happy. Let's get drunk and high using our joy and love. Or anything that resembles any of those two. The world could be scary without you, but i am more afraid of it when you are in it. You made me so self conscious; way more than the people insulting me. Your silence says so much. It speaks to me, and it yells. It tears the pictures of the walls of my badly light my room. I have one wish left, and i don't know if i should be selfish and wish for your love, or do the right thing and wish for your happiness. Or should i wish for my death, just so i could be reborn as a beautiful being, dull and pretty. Never ugly and interesting. Le monde est beau et je suis laid. Je ne peux plus respirer sous le poids de cette dure vérité.