What's wrong with me?
Where did this come from
when did it start?
How is it, that any social interaction turns akward
conversations are falling apart?
That long pause in the end
that look of irritation, every time
a stab to my heart.

Stop questioning me
stop looking at me
stop judging me

Just because the ocean is vast
and the journey might last,
doesn't mean I can't run the ship into a sand bank

A wreck buried in the ground,
nowhere to be found.

The future is a panic attack,
selfinflicted.
It's to much
I can't stop
neither stay in the same spot.

I need you to let go
let go off the " how are you" 's and " how you're doing" 's
stop touching me
all the time, all so casually
It's not okay.

In life as in death
bury me in books, in stories
coverd in ink, in words long dried out.