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Hurble B Burble Apr 2016
Sitting on the verge of severe panic,
Mind going a million miles a minute I can't stand it.
My heart just wants to jump out of my chest. Hurts when you say poppa knows best. Because I thought I did. And I made moves for the good of my kid.
And I tried so **** hard to show you that your darkness took us over.
I'm left feeling like a mars rover. A desolate landscape devoid of habitation.
An emotional wasteland that defines annihilation.
My broken wheel left dragging in the dust. But I keep on going because for him I must.
My instruction coming from two hundred fifty million miles away.
Every thing I tell my body doesn't arrive for days.
Sometimes autopilot is the only way I can even get on with the day.
Nothing feels right and the world is askew,
I wish my life could just get to a point without you.
I want to find the innermost peace.
The kind that puts my heart at ease.
But right now it's too hard to breath.
I just need a little space, please.
Hurble B Burble Apr 2016
Like a train wreck, happening at break neck.
My vivification starts to tear it's self apart. left sitting staring at the start.
One day maybe this penchant for self hate with break and disappate.
Right now I just want to scream.
From the top of my lungs to the bottom of the lowest stream.
The anger and the pain bubbling over like a cauldron.
An emotional squadron aimed to attack and destroy
anything that incites those feelings of joy.
A pathetic mess of a man, Barely clinging on to who I am.
Questioning my own sentience ashamed I can barely finish a sentence
because those thoughts barge in. Then slowly losing myself begins.
Make a call to the sponsor, that's a commitment I have to honor.
Emotion pours out and finally breath abates.
Hard to breathe with the viscosity of this hate.
Thick like sanguine told it all just takes time.
But the anxiety kicks on and the peace is gone.
Forsaken for the fruits of a younger me. Sad I get left for what I used to be.
Hard not to want to saddle up when you're feeling like you just aren't up to *****.
Get on my horse and just take the long ride.
Maybe if I get lucky this time I'll just die.
Older poem.

— The End —