I am a human of interruptions. I am a human that winds themselves into constant cycles. It feels like I'm on a soft pillow and then a carousel surrounded of blazing fire the next.
Sometimes I want to rip off my burnt red hands of eczema. Sometimes her smile stings me...and sometimes the world hurts too much like stretched open cuts and I feel like I'm crashing.
I can't leave and yet I wish to want to. My wrestling violent thoughts in a competition of their own... I cram my mouth of bitterness because it's sweet, like maple syrup. But I am in a state of nausea right after, because of how bitter it all feels and oh so quick. my stomach growls in constant emptiness. And I get clueless on what to feed it...
My manic moods change like the bipolar weather every winter. I'm like a severe storm when elevated to the point of high uninvited irritation .... and and then I clear up exactly how a grey muted sky would when empty: Empty with nothing to hold onto. Do I hold onto the clouds? ...Aren't they like people though? You grab onto them thinking they'll save you, but you'll just pass right into them.
I want to dig you open. Ill muscled, you'll mend with me. See the holes in my back? They never close. Would you want to know why? Because every person I tell, their screaming reactions become "no". I feel how every eye stares down desperately at the shovel in my grasped hand. They beg me that If I forget then I'll forgive. But it doesn't always have to be so that way. We live in every seasons. And exchange air into our mouths as they were words.
So when you think people can save you... by the lace of their fingertips or the beating of their heart conjoined in yours... maybe it's because the reality exists that whey were not meant for you... weren't meant to save you at all.