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Hey
Hey, how are you doing
I'm doing just fine
I lied
I'm dying inside.

I'm one foot in the grave
How about you
My mind is like a cave
And it doesn't really matter what I do

But hey how are you
I'm fine
I lied
I'm dying inside

I may crack smiles
But my heart is racing at 60 miles
And behind a closed door
Tears crash to the floor

But hey how are you
I'm doing just fine
I lied
I'm dying in...
Credited: Anne Marie Choon
It’s pitch black again as you’re driving home. The wind whirls around the world outside, the radio static barely drowns out the noises in your head. When did it get so loud? Each thought screams at you. Reminders of all of the mistakes you’ve buried in the backyard. Did you forget what happened the last time you dug them up? All of the ghosts coming out to play. The skeletons in your closet morphing into bodies of the people you used to love. People who used to love you. People who have found warmer homes elsewhere. It’s cold this time of year but never as cold as it is beneath your ribs. Drives like this feel like forever when no one’s riding shotgun in the passenger side. The laughter now an echo from the back of your mind.  When was the last time someone told you it was going to be okay? Or has it been so long that the word “okay” isn’t a feeling but a faraway place you uprooted from the day your mom stopped coming home. Trauma has many names but never this many faces. A deer jumps in your path and you almost step on the gas instead of your breaks.
 Nov 2017 Andrew Saromines
Lydia
I don't know what love is anymore
I could just as easily confuse it with how I feel about cigarettes

addicting and enjoyable
yet it's killing me
Bring me to ruins
Drown me in your waves
The tide is too high
Its rough
Its taking me away
Drifting until I sink
Trapped in your haze
Your taste I drink
But its poison
Delicious with no cure
You will destroy me
For that I'm sure
 Dec 2014 Andrew Saromines
Tom t
I once thought that only a fool
would only say that
he'd love something so much
that he'd sarifice his life
to keep that love alive
An idea i thought would be
vacant in my mind
until the day I met you
We are critical.

We find flaws in
everything we see
because nobody
wants to write
about perfection,
even though sometimes
we wish we could just stay
staring into that
unblemished surface.

2. We are never satisfied.

We live our lives upon
mountains of
scrunched up
bits of refill and
ideas we gave up
trying to
express.

3. We never forget.

We write words about
eye contact made
three months ago
that we replay over
and over in our minds
even though it
stopped
being relevant.

4. We are fickle.**

Our emotions flash
from one
to the other
like strobe lighting that
disorientates us
until we feel as if
the world
will never be still.

5. We are exposed.

We don't know how
to keep our feelings
to ourselves so
we'll write them
down for
you to find
'accidentally'.

6. We are vulnerable.

We wear our
hearts on our sleeves
and won't lift a
muscle to fight back
if somebody tries
to break it
because we thrive
from the pain.

7. We will never stop.

We will never stop
feeling and
we will never stop
hurting,
we will never stop
breaking and
bleeding and
loving
even though the cycle
is endless
and we know what's
coming next.


We are addicted
to agony,
but we agonise
for the art.
It's worth it though.
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