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252 · Sep 2015
He
Q Sep 2015
He
He intrigues me
In the way that makes me guilty.
In the way I thought
I knew I'd never feel again.

He is intelligent
In the way that's only meant
To be found in the pages
Of wishful fantasies.

He is an enigma
An ever-changing puzzle
A red herring of a clue
That somehow speaks the truth.

He is a prize
Someone to be dearly coveted
And dearly beloved
And jealously covered up.

He is a Muse. My Muse.
The guilt of finding one anew
Teethes at my heart and soul
And I trash what I write of him.

He is inspiration
He is wishful thinking, hopes, and dreams
He is that spark
That pushes me back to this art.

He is.
And He was.
I beg that He'll forgive me
For finding Him.
It's been some time.
251 · Feb 2014
Whatever.
Q Feb 2014
A better word
Would be
Apathy.

All the care that was wasted
For stupid
Inane
Things.

Whatever.
I honestly don't care.
Because you,
And them
And life
Have no purpose.
242 · Dec 2013
Mother Made A Wound
Q Dec 2013
Some days
I see how you act
With her
And I remember
I'm the child
You
Didn't want.
242 · May 2014
I Love You
Q May 2014
Just the way you are
For everything you are
With every wound this world gave you
With every badly-healed scar.

I may not know your name
I may not know your story
We may not be friends
But you have love from me.

Because this world may twist and turn you
Life may beat and burn you
The depression may crush and churn you
But I will live and learn you

Pain may wear you down
Anxiety may eat you up
Loneliness may strangle you
But from me, you have love.

Don't let the mirror tell you lies tonight
You're perfect as you are
Whenever you can't endure through life
Remember, to me, you're a star.

-Chaus
If you're reading this; I love you, hang in there.
223 · Dec 2017
Depersonalization
Q Dec 2017
My* body writes this as I float through it
I am above and below and within my body.
I am quintessentially outside and without it.
I am not certain where I reside or what I am.

This may be me, a pseudo-consciousness
Amalgamated into an I into a body that doesn't exist.
I can feel my body's heart shiver and squirm
Inside of my chest, I am aware it is fighting.

My body's heart is fighting and that is wrong
Neither I nor my contain organs or space
Thus the body cannot exist and neither can the heart
And I am once more lost in the deep waters.

There is an abundance of nothing that stretches
Beyond my comprehension, it is vast, unending
I do not know how to enter or leave it
I merely know it is and is not with me.

I would like to pass quietly.
In the space between an inhale and a heartbeat.
My life feels fraudulent, useless and unreal.
The body does not carry on as it carries ever onwards.
Meet my bpd

— The End —