It's gotten worse

I feel like I literally can't breath
My heart feels like it's trying to come out of my chest
I try to move, but every time I try to move it pulls on my heart strings in a bad way
Every time I try to breathe my heart feels like it's closer to escaping me and pushes at my ribcage violently
And it feels like someone is pressing down on my chest
Making the feeling worse

I've tried waking up
I've tried screaming
I've tried moving
But it hurts to even try to do anything
I can't fight
I can't move
I cannot do anything

Am I so messed up that I even get tortured in my sleep?

I haven't slept good enough in a while
These last for hours of the night

It feels like they're trying to **** me in my dreams
These nightmares
I'm always close to dying in them
I'm frozen in it
Never able to get out until I'm almost dead
And when it ends
I get back to my normal dreams
*Which I think is better

Being alone and being lonely are two different things
Feeling alone or feeling lonely are two different things too
Alone, meaning no one is around
Feeling alone means there's people all around, but in you mind, heart, and soul you're all alone inside
Lonely, meaning you're single and searching
Feeling lonely means you're always alone, no matter the place or people

Alone
Or
Lonely?

I am both

I feel alone and I am alone
I feel lonely and I am lonely
My soul is cold and empty
But my body is warm and full
My body is heavy
And my spirit heavier
My mind the storm and my heart the war

Will it ever end?

The overcrowding loneliness and the loud silence that comes with it
Or the feeling that I'm alone

I cry
I mourn
But what am I crying for?
What am I mourning?
Am I crying for death to take me?
So that he can warm my soul and unburden my spirit?

Am I mourning the life I'm living?
Am I mourning the future I think I'll have?
Am I mourning that death doesn't want me, or that he doesn't love me the way I love him?
Am I crying and mourning the deep thirst I have for him?

I think I am
And I'm not sure if I'll ever get over him, or stop wanting him
He was my only solace except writing
He was the only thing I thought I could control
But I don't
He controls it
He decides whether to push me away or to bring me closer

This burden I carry
It breaks me a little each time I feel I should die
Why haven't I died? I think
I should be dead. Someone else who deserves to live should have the rest of my years.
I always think this
Then I think of others
The pain ebbs, but still flows much more greatly later, when I'm thinking too much, feeling too much
Am I alone or lonely?
I think I'm both
And as I said in one of my last poems: Am I trash or golden?
I'm not sure
Am I trash because I'm too broken, or am I golden because I'm broken in a beautiful way?

I can barely move
I can barely talk
I can't breathe when I'm this way
It's gotten worse
And it happens more often
I'm paralyzed in a nightmarish dream and I come out gasping
I smile in the beginnings
because it tries to pull me under and can't
But after a while it wins and pulls me under
I fight
I try to move, but all I get is a bit of shaking
And I try to talk or scream, but all I get is a short puffed out breath
I try to breathe more, but I hyperventilate
I half wake up from it to try to get free, but it pulls me under and smiles at me

I realized the only place I was looking for beauty was in the mirror
I looked in my heart and saw I was ugly there too
I saw something just as bad in my heart
**A mirror...

I am blowing out
My candle in
Both ends.

Glass of red in hand, she watches the rain.
The pane of glass the only barrier between her and thunder.
Thinking whilst drinking should not be undertaken at any costs.
How old is too old?
Why does the thunder clap rather than sing?
Slowly she turns away from the window, sets the glass down
and turns the wheelchair toward the bedroom.
Still the storm rages, the thunder claps, and her heart sings
Q:How old is too old? : Answer: right now
The bottle of tablets falls to the floor, ironically timed with a thunderclap.

Its been written in the stars that I will be
Starstruck by your personality, and your
clenched fists
Supergiant of manliness that strikes soft
flesh, sparks bruises, causes pain.
Leave, people say, but I can't, love is a giant supernova.
Sparse is the love for me, infinite is the universe.
The stars I see now are not of distant galaxies though,
but rather the start of a concussion

I used to breath you in, it
was like rose petals on my
senses, I could taste you from
morning till night.

But time passed and the petals
rotted in my mouth, i was
finding it hard to breath till
I didn't taste you there was just
a bitter after taste, and I suffocated
when you were near, no longer
able to breath.

You were under my skin i
could feel the warmth within,
you were on me, I felt you after
you were gone, till the next time
I felt it again.

Then I started to itch it spread
from my heart a rash to the
mind it brought the fire inside
cold like a winter was raging
side. I couldn't stand your touch,
it was like razor wire across my
skin.

We once were as one, we breathed,
we were like peas in a pod, but now
there no us that time was then and
this is how it has become, we loved
each other but some times love is
not enough..