Sitting there picking at the psychological scabs. Disappointments face mirrors my own stuck in a personal hell in which a cold carress and the slow tempo heart beat pull me apart.
If only I could recognize this.
Visions but a thing of the past cling to what's left, these blurred streaming lights phasing in and out.
Over-drinking it all down, small feeling, small, smaller now.
Leads to over-thinking left alone in my head. Dance to the droning *****,
grinding away this squandered life.
He's always sorry when your gone.
Should've been permanent this time.
The marks lighten up on the outside but still phosphorescent and fresh to you and I.
"Things are going to be better this time." you force yourself to say. This wasn't the first time you've had this poison spill past your lips.
Eyes locked and shimmering.
You mutter something like "for the kids." as you leave.
It's spread like a gangrenous rot to them now.
Please be ok.
The wounds of separation constantly weeping. Never healing properly because you keep picking and reopening the scars.
Biting and chewing until there's nothing left. Your self destructive, emotionally cannibalistic nature is apparent.
Everybody cares, right?
Why else would the constant lies and condescending suggestions be bombarded upon your already weary mind.
Even in theses recurring dreams you find no relief. For others dreams are fantastic things of beauty. For you they're as dangerous as yellow cake in the hands of the despot.
Constantly changing, pushing and detaching now. Starring into the mirror. Who is this?
Things we don't talk about.
The skies have darkened.
Solar silhouette barely gleaming through these polluted smudges passing for clouds.
The ground starts to polka dot with every acidic drop.
Brush it off, it's nothing.
It's doesn't work. It's lingering.
The downpour steadily increasing.
With each passing tedious moment.
Now you're visibly shaking.
Surface streams have collected and the dam will need relief soon.
With every lie of "Hi, i miss you." and
"I still love you." gathering it's slowly dismantling the garrison.
Where there were once light cracks there is now gushing veins through brick.
The storm hasn't let up or even shown signs of stopping.
With the dam soon to be destroyed the promise of a flood is upon us.
Here comes the water.
Odd flashes of light blurring everything
Uncomfortable in my skin
Hearts about to implode
with megatons behind it
Colors smearing together as I blink
Just one little pill
"to even you out."
"It'll make you happy again."
Make them happy is what it seems
Kick this habit
my happiness means nothing
you are in very serious trouble Muscles tightly constricted Hands turn from gods gifted tools to
useless mangled mounds of bone and flesh and just like that it seems to slow and sputter to a halt.
Nothing like was mentioned on the label.
Trying to type this with one semi functional hand
Amnesia blaring in your ears.
Piano running through its arpeggio
as you hear muffled questions being
shouted from a distance.
Take off your helmet.
Remove your ear buds.
Open your eyes to a disgusting amount of dead valley sky.
It's time for you to sit up.
Engine still puttering like a champ.
The stranger mutters something like,
"That's a lot of blood. Are you ok?"
Stifling ***** and a laugh you reply,
"Feelin' fine. Never better."
You notice that he's still in his car.
He didn't even roll down his window fully. This is the extent of help or empathy you've come to expect.
The taste of iron fills your mouth.
You spit. Crimson.
You smile. Fake.
You wave him on.
It's time to work. It's a process.