I can't find my motivation again...

I feel the pull of my bed drag me towards it like I'm a discarded piece of metal subjected to the power of an industrial magnet, waiting to be put on the compactor and meet my clautrophobic end

I can't remember where I left my smile last night
I put it on my night stand, I'm sure... or did I?
Drunkeness forbids me from forming a coherent thought about the laughter I vaguely remember, or if it ever existed

I spit out the blood in my mouth from the grinding of my teeth like a rusty, old hinge that can hardly move to open the cage in which I imprisoned my own happiness

My arms can't seem to hold on tight enough to life, at least not today
I can feel the dread in my thoughts constantly taunt me, poking at every one of my imperfections, shouting at my low self esteem, and my guilt choking me to the point of unconsciousness, because I oppose not

The words I vomited along with all the beer, still stain my clothes and my skin, reminding me of the hangover to come
I will hate myself for having done so, and I will promise myself to never drink or love again

But that's a promise I never keep

Si la lluvia cae desde las negras nubes hasta el verde césped, creando un nexo entre el cielo y la tierra, amantes distantes y enemigos cercanos destinados a compartir una misma existencia, ¿por qué no podemos tú y yo?

Las palabras que no he dicho se agolpan en mi pecho y me abultan la garganta, pero no las libero, trago saliva y las envío a la ***** de mis dedos, desde donde explotan en el papel y dejan un rastro de sangre, a veces negra, a veces azul. Una escena de un crimen con un único sospechoso: mi corazón, el cual llevo siempre caminando a mi lado y detrás mío, ignorando sus avisos hasta que se detiene, se ancla en un lugar e irrumpe en mis pensamientos nublando mi juicio, alterando mi razón, destruyendo mi consciencia.
Grito en silencio mientras te veo reír. El estruendo de tu alegría enmascara mi desdicha, y casi lo prefiero así.
Eres el secreto que no logro mantener. El cristal oscuro detrás del cual me escondo sin darme cuenta de la transparencia de mis miradas, de mis risas, de mis manos. Eres el perfume de mis sábanas, la colilla de cigarro aún encendida que inicia el incendio involuntario que consume mi interior. Eres vida y eres muerte, y el suicidio que cometo a diario voluntaria y egoístamente. El arma homicida yace en tus labios, en tus brazos, en tu piel y en el pecaminoso pensar del cual soy víctima.

¿Cómo es entonces que te debo olvidar? Las espinas no sueltan mi espíritu decaído. Las llagas en mi piel no sanan si les echas de nuevo sal, pero sálame la vida, pues tu fiel seguidor soy.

As I walk back home from a stressful day at school, I can't help but recognize the heavy steps I've taken through the same old, claustrophobia inducing,
routine making street for the past three years.

It's so peaceful and quiet,
unlike my mind,
which erupts in strenduous racket at the sight of sanity,
even if it's a mere glimpse at it.

I want to break the silence and scream,
but as soon as I do, this dead street will come back to life;
cars won't stop passing by,
old ladies will rush to the front door, and try to take a look at what's going on,
dogs will start to bark,
which will scare the cats,
who will make the neighbours yell at them to leave their houses...

I wish to feel this alive.

I want my heart to beat like a drumkit being smashed on by John Bonham
I want my lungs to fill with air, and float away into the cloudy night sky
I want my voice to sing like Freddie Mercury in the morning,
like Whitney Houston at noon,
and like James Hetfiled at night,
all on my own.

I want my hands to hold on to my mother and father in the wake of my departure.
I'm not ready to leave them yet.

I want my head to stay quiet,
my mind to stop working,
my memories to fade out,
and my anxiety to consume all.

People think psychologists know all the answers,
that we can't
or won't
or shouldn't get angry,
sad,
anxious,
joyous,
euphoric,
suicidal,
depressed,
lonely...

We are still humans,
and we have it worse than anyone else.

Every single person has their own demons,
but we can call them by name.

I need your arms tonight
The tears roll down my face, and I don't have the courage to dry them off
They stain my cheeks, drawing distinct patterns in my sorrow
Can't type a cowardly hidden word because I can't seem to find the will to go look for it, even though I can see its feet sticking out under the curtain
I, alienation, need your company
I need your arms tonight