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drownitout Feb 2015
Don't revisit old love,
There's a reason that it didn't happen,
Maybe you were too young, maybe you lost compassion, maybe it lost it's magic but it's something you should never go back to,
Especially if it hurt, especially if it ended with words that destroyed self esteem and composure and taught you to learn how to thrive by yourself, without the touch of their skin, without the feel of their lips, without the worry of how their drinking is affecting their health, and the way they react, and the way you react to how they injure themselves,
So climb away when its over and they've left you on your knees, after attacking your ribcage while you ask them to stop and you plead that this lacks meaning and you've torn us apart, caring too much for pointless opinions and not enough for what fell asleep in your arms,
And my body is caving, from all the disdain and the way that I linger on things that have faded, I'm jaded and faking the smile on my face, while I'm really just sick, no I'm twisted up like vines but I'm rotting, and rotting my mind with thoughts and reactions that stem from chemical distraction,
I'm laughing but really it's an act, I'm alone now, and that's okay, I think I'll keep it that way.
drownitout Jan 2015
I have all of these memories
that live within me, that feel like seconds ago.
I'm so attached to every moment, and I'm destroyed by what I've let go.
I've loved a human being, maybe two,
Spent time with men who deserve to die.
I've been empty, distraught, corrupt and you,
You are me, every night.

The same disdain, the pain.
The highs and lows of flesh and bone.
The strength and energy of youth and friends and fun and it all-
It all ends.
Or maybe that's how I feel,
Or think I do,
At my age with a boy and bills and cigarettes and a history of some of unorthodox illness.
drownitout Oct 2014
I'm tired of myself,
mirrors drain me,
I feel lifeless.
Yeah my actions never help,
And you deserve better-
than a body on a stretcher,
Or ***** on the carpet.
Shame, you don't know where it takes you
Being intimate with darkness.

Sentient with the shadows;
Here's the best part, I'm a father with a battle, I brag about my scars,
And I love it every time I get to fuel my secrecy,
Separate lives, separate times, so who is this that I call 'me'?
drownitout Jul 2014
A depression that's been present since the onset of pubescence turned a child that went to church into a child with some convictions.
A warped sense of the world has greatly altered my perception and since now I hardly bother with it all I just accept it.
drownitout Jul 2014
I still have the occasional dream,
Of things I can no longer do,
People I can no longer see.
I've cut them off from my thoughts so they have no where else to go but my subconscious. Subdued, taped up and packed in boxes and old drawers, the pieces purposely misplaced and pictures burnt and/or torn, but they're still there. My little hell that still burns behind my eyes, that takes residence in my skull, that I try my best to forget about. I try to distract myself, avert attention, but honestly things still thrive in there. Alive and well, my hell has full attendance
drownitout Jun 2014
In the morning and in the evening,
Drive-time bulletins oceans away.
Between the mourning and seeking,
Gridlock still lives in yesterday.
It's all around me.
It's all around.
It's all around me.
And It surrounds.

I'm conscious of the difference in continental content,
But I'm so sensitive to casualties that will always be.
Everywhere where necropolis' thrive and crushed steel and plastic are taking lives.
Always so far away from me.
Always so far away from me.

Where we find fatal jackknives and pileups on express ways making mechanisms of bone marrow.
This is where,
The public expresses sorrow for the victims who died tomorrow.
drownitout Jun 2014
You left us on a Thursday, but we decided to wait until the following Monday to do anything with you.

You left your room a mess, more than usual, with sloppy scribbles on the walls about accidents and incidents. Even though your mother always griped and reminded you to be tidy and firm you ignored her because, well, you'll always be who you always were. Your clothes all thrown in the right corners, the cereal bowls filled with mold under your bed. The way you stapled your character through tangled cables and caricature. I loved you every minute of it.

I remember you showing me your worst at the Friday night lights, behind the bleachers. Between cheering and littered beer and soda bottles, you told me something that destroyed my optimism about things. I didn't even notice the plastic crunched under my feet and some kind of snack bar paste that ruined my favorite sneakers. I always loved learning, but not after what you taught me about what he taught you. I guess that's what teachers are for. But he took much more than he ever gave to you on a chalkboard.

I didn't go to your funeral, I was too busy downing the wine in the parking lot I stole from the local supermarket.
And after everyone had left the scene, I was so torn up I went to your tombstone, alone, screaming.
It was later on, maybe eleven pm at night.
There wasn't anyone around, not a soul in sight.

Just you and I. Part of me hopes your spirit was there. Another part of me hopes you didn't witness my blood red eyes and dribbling nose. Anyone could have tasted the rage in the air.

I don't want you to see me how I was, how I am now.
I want you to be in peace at it's best, as one should when they're resting like that and such. It's just that, this was too much for me, it tore me to pieces, ripped me to shreds. I hope they bury me next to you. The decision has been a struggle. But I don't want you to be so lonely down there, so I'm coming to join you. Because now I feel unfinished, like half of a puzzle.
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