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julia-hunterPoems
Tonight feels like salt, but not enough wounds to pour it in. There is no relief, no distraction from the feeling taking my lungs' motion away. I can't breathe, I can't see, stasis and the puddles that accompany it. The crushing grip of unproductivity shakes my soul as a giant would a doll. Wasted, wasted, another day wasted. When will the spaces on the clock be worthwhile? I am perpetually shoving myself off of an edge into a pit of something menacing, I can't seem to give up on tearing down my own walls. Two lines, or three, streaking down my cheeks - a signification of my misery for everyone to see. Embarrassment, now comes he - with his lance, sticking it straight through me. Stop looking, everyone stop looking, I can't do this anymore. When tears do not reveal my weakness, my expression does. I am quiet, disengaging from what I enjoy - and they notice, how dare they notice, I  don't want them to notice! Curiosity and compassion are two very different things, and the former is in overabundance. I feel like a raincloud must, though I don't attain a pleasure of release - my eyes spill out my insignificance, therefore it is endless.
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Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 1:18 AM UTC
January 13, 2015 - Salt
Tonight feels like salt, but not enough wounds to pour it in. There is no relief, no distraction from the feeling taking my lungs' motion away. I can't breathe, I can't see, stasis and the puddles that accompany it. The crushing grip of unproductivity shakes my soul as a giant would a doll. Wasted, wasted, another day wasted. When will the spaces on the clock be worthwhile? I am perpetually shoving myself off of an edge into a pit of something menacing, I can't seem to give up on tearing down my own walls. Two lines, or three, streaking down my cheeks - a signification of my misery for everyone to see. Embarrassment, now comes he - with his lance, sticking it straight through me. Stop looking, everyone stop looking, I can't do this anymore. When tears do not reveal my weakness, my expression does. I am quiet, disengaging from what I enjoy - and they notice, how dare they notice, I  don't want them to notice! Curiosity and compassion are two very different things, and the former is in overabundance. I feel like a raincloud must, though I don't attain a pleasure of release - my eyes spill out my insignificance, therefore it is endless.
julia-hunter
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julia-hunter
Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 1:18 AM UTC
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