and so my fluttering stream of consciousness leaves me open and bare to judgment and stares

as if my actions didn’t already beat it to the chase

Your stomach aches under the weight of your desire and pressure of your sin

The bathroom is ice cold and the house silent
bass popping in your ear
One splayed hand gripping one tensed thigh
Your nails dig in, lilac pretty
-
You *** and it feels warm
So you fight the urge to slip your cold hand under the stream
-
A hard stare in the mirror, seeing too much and nothing much at all
-
You thought it was just that sleep evaded you but something much bigger was chasing you, leaving you
too
All too often
All too much
-
Here you are again.
Does it feel good?

How do I break the spell?

It’s the knife in my own holster .. and the blood spilt holds no value either

My memories are all I have and I can feel them fading
Unravelling
Slowly dissipating .. the silt of my emotions slipping into realms unknown

He said goodbye
So why didn’t you wave?