I so desperately want to be held but I can’t take being hugged these days
When did everything get so broken and confusing and broken and broken and broken and confusing and

If I took a bite out of myself, would I taste like pomegranate and figs or rotting flesh?

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