Heartbeat and breathing erratic.

Mindset; frazzled, like static.



There is never a rhyme or reason. 
My life is just an ever-changing season.


Looping yet broken. Like a record that is scratched.
In my head, the devils plan, will it be hatched?

Or will I be intercepted beforehand. My only warning sign could be the lights and/or sirens, when the men in white coats are dispatched

Often, it has been said that I am prone to over emphasize.
Today, they will not hurt me with such childish criticism, the importance of today they shall not minimize.

On this day, awhile ago.
The universe was randomly kind.
It wasn't until sometime later that I realized the enormity of how though.
Maybe the stars were aligned.

The fact that she cares.
Unconditionally so, while everyone else looks for an easy way out.
Splitting hairs.
Sam is there, ringside.
During each bout.
My goal isn't to win. I just want to make this woman glow with pride.

Pop a vein. Let it spill
. Just breathe....Slash!
 Angels and demons, battle and clash.
It's just a matter of time until....

All I want is to sit in a dark corner and cry.
But I have no tears my ducts have run dry.

I've had this feeling for months and months. I can't lose him, my devil still hunts.
Voices in my head trying to put me under his spell. I know one thing, I do not want to carry out their instruction, and perform there near-death stunts.

But you see, my resolve is week so it begins, through flesh I will saw.
With this there is no big mystery, there is only one conclusion one must draw....

This girl simply wishes to hurt no more.
"Please don't revive me!" She would implore.
From her final resting place; the bathroom floor

My hand hovering above him, I hesitate.
There is a glint in his eye. 
Slowly I pick him up, just feel the weight.
We always meet when I feel hopeless, he promises so much, absolution, complete freedom and yet, I cannot seem to fully accept. I refuse him; deny.

 He somewhat quells my despair.
Roaming up and down my skin.
Tending to me when I can't let anyone else in.
Arms, legs, chest stomach, especially a thigh.
To me, he feels at home there.
 Never does he question; ask why.
He's always ready; on standby.

Deception mistaken for protection.
 Oh so naive.
Unwittingly taking fiction as gospel, wholeheartedly, they believe.
The art of lying, simply unable to conceive.

In these formative years, all the elders did was sugarcoat.
 Upon uncovering the truth.
They realize all that they've been fed is poison, slowly, it has been secreted.
 Down their throat.
 Cruelly cheated.
The innocence of youth.

The darkened sky has 1 million eyes.
 It knows the whats, the hows the whens, and the whys.

Down beneath, cruel deceit and lies.
 So remember to rise above, the truth never dies.