i kept all my emotions from today contained inside of me
not like a cage made of glass, but like a cage made out of thick dense walls
hiding everything behind them
and as i realized that the last straw was broken, that i couldn’t take anything anymore
i wasn’t breathing
maybe i wanted to become the walls i was making myself out to be.
and i ****** a large amount of air into my burning lungs
ironically i wanted to do just the opposite
and with my exhale poured out all of my emotions
the wretched sobs and the yearning, the nostalgia and the pain, the sudden realization that i was
really
really
******.

i want to go home
not to the place that contains my bed
not the place thought of as a safe haven
not to the place filled with bad memories
that overshadow the good ones
not to the place where i cried myself to sleep
not to the place where i faced rejection each day
not to the place that is filled with acting, lying, fake love
i want to go home
i want God to wrap his arms around me and cry with me, cry for all the suffering i have gone through
i want to go home
i want to go home
i want to go home

fire burning in the ocean,
baby,
blue eyes and a tattoo.

hair, gold like an olympic medal.
fun fact- they are not really gold.

filled with black tar, hidden by a barrier,
it is what you do best.

you should be the one smoked but the truth is
you smoke anyone who touches you.

i should have known you were no good,
baby,
blue jeans and a tattoo.

tricked me like i was a part of your show,
i did not pay for this kind of magic.

addicted to a lover's blow,
but ill still crawl back even if i hate it.

wheres my apology,
baby,
blue bruise and a tattoo.

it is dark now, feet on the gum filled streets,
the night's sun and the world's lamp are here, where are you?

laying not in my bed but in the ground,
deserved it, but i miss you.

six feet deep, i'm addicted to you,
baby,
blue flowers and a tattoo.

I pour an unmeasured amount of ***** into my black coffee, careless.
I could care less.
I roll and shake the bottle of Advil in my hand, shooka-shooka. The rattle of these pink pills, that do in fact taste like candy to me, calm my nerves down. My nails, bitten down to the core, are painted black. I could see blue where the paint chipped. Cold.
In my other hand, laxatives. A whole box of them in my bony grip.
This was what control was. I could control my heart, my intake of food, the way my belly bloated. I could control my emotions, what could hurt me and what wouldn't.
Control.

I don't know what to type
I don't know what to say
Do you have days like these?
Where the Depression is so crippling,
It slithers through your mind and snatches up your words,
It leaves your mouth open with a deafening scream of silence.
It molds your grey matter into an exploding question mark,
It pulls the plug.
All you hear is the incessant whine of the EKG machine; your mind has
flat lined.

That's how I feel every day of my life.
It manifests into a physical pain, right in the frontal lobe.
Is it real or am I ******(somatic.)
I want to shove a knife through my forehead to break this curse,
The physical and emotional pain would stop then.
The knife would be inscribed, on it written:
Nothing.