"Helping me" isn't realistic,
however one can be fine with the 'as is'
Labels caretake to us
Not by definition
But an association in vain of an illness.
Your ignorance is what will get to us
There is relativity to being
okay.
There is humanity to being,
Okay?
Listen to the beating
By day
A casual demeaning, you say

"Every body has bad days."

****.

Dark
cavities cart calamity,
creating creatures
Cured. Insanity instigates insignificance;
Idealism. Icarus might melt mere morsels
Made bleak
by burdensome barons. Baked solid
Sought suffering souls.
Searing severe reverence recollections-
Repeat redundancies,
Regard retentive wishes while
White whisky washes westward.
Well worn within
Century-torn
Infancy.
Beds
Made &
Set
With
Resistant
Comforts.

In order to dive deep you need to learn how to swim first,
        
but after playing with fire the oxygen
                                               Burns worse.

Now
Your heart weighs so, she pulls
your mind thin.
I beg the bodys marks allow me in;

Not to breach the paddock
where peace and marrow grow-
I mere wish for souls fingers to reach and handle mine
Between the cresent moon and

the wilting pine.

What recharges you?
Which font regards to you
Sentiments;
Like spineless piles perched slant against
Sturdy walls.
Sturdy drawls.
Sturdy, crawls
Steady Falls.
Steep toles, full loans, grows swift
Amongst the earths souls.
Dirt, cheep, hold on to meet my hand
Cut deep and burried  in sand
Sturdy home slides, security to rejection
Prepaid pensions grasp
Fleating.

It was a pleasure meeting your gaze.

An experimental zoo trying to take you
to the show
where all the wild animals go; we will look at the exhibit, in floor length mirrors, typed as
Inferiors. roots growing from our veins
Enjoy my mockery, beauty.
'Pick me'. the main source of comedy.
( :

Scarce are the lips unlicked by the fires tongue
Raised by the mothers nature, wild and undone
in the moments your will is pushed, ash tray

Hold to the weeds and strike at the rain
They are the unruly ones whose desire plays with the wind and burns everything within touches reach
But not to subject a detrimental flame upon which they came

No, we are water in an iced age burning to escape the pain.

We have ardent inclination to fetch whats ripped bare from our hearts
Baren, left, we hold nothing but our broken parts in a box
left by the bypass ruined by rain and grass stains, a product of the golden days oxidized and rusty. 
Look at my eyes, from pain

this must be virtue. 

I promise, in sickness and in health i will never hurt you