Conviction in my confidence and conflict in my consistency.
My mind is on an endless loop.
It keeps reminding me that alone is the only four walls I need.
There's not much talking here anymore.
Just the sound of echoes bouncing off the things we wish we could say.
The silence tells more about me then I would like to admit and there are days when the sound of my own voice
is something I no loner recognize.
The lingering hope to proceed in this awakening, this coming to god moment makes my knees weak and praying isn't an option anymore
Because my hands are too preoccupied trying to dig you out of my throat-
Too busy writing down words I should be saying outloud or at least acknowledging to myself.
But even if I did they would all come out distorted and faulted and weak,
a true reflection of ones self.
They say intelligent people are more prone to being depressed
because they understand more of the harsh reality that is life.
So give me ignorance-
I don't wish to know how I want to kiss the nape of your neck forever
but I live in a world where forever is fleeting and reciprocation isn't working in my favor anymore.
I am never one to be rooted into one place, so I don't expect anyone to stay long enough to water me.
I'm half sun half shade
Both tend to work in my favor on most days.
But then there's days like today where I am awakened by the soft pinch of the reality
squeezing just hard enough to break the skin.
I don't want to bleed anymore.
I just want to be
But what happens when my mind will not let that happen.
I am a zombie in my wake
always searching for something when everyone else just ******* runs away
Don't worry, I only want to eat my own insides.
Rip them to shreds and turn me new again.
Basking the glory of what can be.
But someone cut off my head-
They did what I had been planning to do all along
And now I am alone in my solitude.
Watching as everyone around me realizes that I compared myself to a zombie and flower all in the same poem
All because I am one part beautiful
And all others destructive.
and it feels like I've been writing for hours
But I'm not sure how long it's been because time is never something I was good at keeping, kind of like you.
I am a broken wrist watch
stuck in time-
and you are a hourglass
always running out of it.