I feel like my world is ending,
like the earth just split in two
the same way my heart did.
But I'll be okay,
this isn't the first time
the stars stopped shining.
I may feel like I'm dying,
but I'll still be alive.
I'll be fine.

I didn't want you,
I wanted love
and I have realised
that they are not the same thing.

You were a mould
that I poured my insecurities in,
a computer I tried to program.

But you are a sky,
stormy and clear and rainy and warm.

You were so blue when I longed for red.

I didn't want you.
I wanted the thought.

What if I just like reading better?
Can one even be a professional reader?

Im so full, pouring from a creative tap
Yet I can barely write, or create a starting draft
My heart is flooding like a pipeline: one poorly designed
Can someone help me make sense of these dreams of mine?
Thinking with all my might but there’s no glimmer, no light
Hard, Im struggling to keep sustaining this fight with my
Self, I keep my mind in decent health but im still
Drowning, under the weight of this creative wealth