I feel so lonely
                                                          
                                                          be quiet

I feel so scared
        
                                                          Shut up  


I feel so anxious

                                  

         Did I not just tell you to shut the **** up

An achromatic  photo
a tumbling rock
                            falling
                                        down

                              A snow packed peak
      
Every inch of stone covered in weighted white
Rolling and growing...
growing and rolling...
the only sound heard, ice kissing ice
And my screams
Do you hear it?
The avalanche of my life
It has a sound unlike any other
A crescendo  of every experience compounding on my soul, demanding to be seen, heard, felt, feared

Warning level 5 avalanche
Please evacuate the area for personal safety, hazard may cause more calamity

They say children put childish things away. What they mean is Deconstruct the tower of your ideals and put your blocks away,
swim through the Milky Way of your dreams and put the flippers up.
As you come across your front lawn scattered with bikes as the kids scream kicking a ball he replies make sure both locks are locked, as they click you hear a slight slip in your heart.
Click click.
When his anxiety kicks in he will ask again, are both locks locked? You feel the toy box in your chest trying to burst at the seem but you only reply “Yea, they’re locked”
When he says children put their childish things away he means, the things you see don’t align with me. I’m too afraid of the freedom they bring when they take you away from me. So you sit on the granite floor of your life, floors clean, his smiles beams, and it’s as depressing as it seems.

I forcefeed my body a poison in the name of peace
When it coughs and begs please don’t  
I hold my hands over its crying mouth and say just one more
The sweet aroma only I can smell when it’s been so long
My lungs cry at this smell
The putrid tears of tar seep into my stomach
It moans a low growl and gurgles it’s insults at me these slurs
              slide
                      down
                               these tubes of mine whispering
over one another as if those  tar teardrops had turned into small souls clawing at me until their grave
My soul lying at the bottom becoming darker and darker