I'm so low
I wish I could say it's unfamiliar
but this place is like my old home;

here I reside and within it
a part of me dies,
every single second I spend
trapped here alive.

Everyone is thinking forward
and here I am trapped in my head
sleep, the sparse hours I receive
are the closest thing to comfort I get.

I wish I could just stay in bed.

I don't wanna die, not yet
no, not yet.
I just want to live a day where my bones don't feel like lead.

And my muscles don't feel like they'll contract
so suddenly,


and **** me on their own accord.

Or that my organs won't turn black
and start oozing from my every pore.
So when you ask me what's going on
I'll say, I'm tired, I'm stressed, I'm bored.

But in reality, I'm hurting
every part of me is sore.

Please don't worry,
and please don't stress.
I hate to see you cry.
Don't stay for me,
you'll be stuck here forever
I'm just waiting to die.

empty

nothingness

numbness

I have

succumb to

what I've learned

from early on.

Numb yourself

when the hurt

is too strong.

Numb yourself

when you

feel like

you can no

longer go on.

Numb yourself

so you can

pretend you're

strong.

Numb yourself

so you can

last, just another day

Numb yourself

so you don't

have to die

today.

sometimes it feels like

I have so many people around me
but I am so alone.

that I am happy and healthy,
but I feel disease creeping through my bones.

that I want to run
but my body is heavy and numb

I'm so hot
I'm too cold

I'm too young to die
but too unsure to be old

like being trapped in a bubble
panicking, wanting free

trying to ground myself
in some sort of familiarity.

lump in my throat
body twitching in bed

how can I feel too alive
yet feel
so dead.

crushed
by the immense weight of
expectation; I’ve come too far
to turn back now.

or to stay stagnated, where I am.
this halfway house of
purgatory, grasping at mere
fibres of the future I so very wish to weave,
but my attempts are futile
I am unable to get a grip.
rope burn bites at my hands,
slip, bleed, slip.  

The options are so endless,
yet so limited by none other
than myself.
I preach,
believe in yourself. love yourself.
go for your dreams and don’t let them slip away.
but these are simply words I say.
I preach one thing and
I practise another.
hypocrisy, doubt’s dutiful brother

fan others flames yet ignore mine being smothered.
by my own hands, none other.

at least I have you,
the single being on this earth
that believes in me.
I don’t know why
I don’t know how it came to be.
that you are the one soul that truly pushes me towards my dreams.
you don’t let me give up
you don’t allow me to claim victim, be smothered by this monster surrounding me,

not mother or father
but me, it’s me.
the monster is me
don’t you see?
I’m the one who doesn’t believe.
I’m the one whose stopping me
I’m the one whose keeping me down and doubting myself and writing myself off before I even put pen to paper and make myself worse off.

You are like
a fallen angel
lifting me on
your broken wings

not to save me,
but to let me go
and catch me again
like a bird
teaching her
baby to fly.

you,
are trying to help me realize

that I have wings too,
if I’d just open my eyes.
that you can still fly
and be scared of heights.



3 am passes
another day approaches
pointless moments surrounded by
expressionless
wilting roses.

I’ll fight the urge to
give up, even if it feels like
I’m not winning
because


the clock will pass 4 am
and the world will keep spinning

even with oceans between us,

       I’ll swim against the tide
            to lie
               against
                 your heartbeat

once again.

it's going to be a long day
long night
long morning
whats the difference
if you don't


sleep



anyways.

paralyzing.
a black hole ******* me in
nausea creeps in waves starting in my stomach
hot then cold
and sweating
I can't get comfortable
I can't bear it.
I gag and *****
until there's nothing left
but something claws me to
dizzying spells anyways.
I cry to spill the fears inside
but none the less they continue to reside.
I travel wearily through the evening
just to find a hopeful feeling
I am met with,
all the more nothing.
so why move? I stay rooted in
a single position,
waiting for it to find me.

but my hearts in my throat and I'm starting to choke
on the nothingness that surrounds me.
I can't breathe,
I find no solace in sleep.
This must be the final chapter.

(II)

I suppose it makes sense,
I'm so broken
beyond repair anyway
what's the point?
my paint is peeling
my walls are cracking
my floorboards creak with every step
I'm a mess
I'm a wreck
no really, save yourself
leave me dead.

you don't have to stay
just do me one last favour?
put a gun to my head
paint the walls with blood and lead
and take my pain away.