Jul 2016
I'm building these walls so high that I think i've finally kept everything from myself. Wallowing in my own self pity, and mutilating hatred that I've forgotten how to breathe. Wait how do I breathe. Now I'm thinking about it , oh god I can't breathe. This is how it feels to be suffocated by the lies you entangle around your body to make this persona everyone can admire from afar? My words repeat, twist into a different pattern I can't seem to find the most fitting words to make people want to remember me, or better yet be engulfed by my artwork.
Why won't anyone tell me why I'm so petrified by closed doors keeping the light on just seconds before it shuts only to run quickly into my mattress made of the baggage I carry with me. I must make a home within my mind so I did. And I lie awake every night tossing and turning on blood clots I forgot to let bleed out.
The space between them and me is so blurry around the edges I can't seem to feel it anymore, being detached for so long has made my reaction time slow to oncoming emotions like that semi mere seconds away from nearly taking your life away. I promise the alcohol is long gone from my system, but it was the one thing to help me feel. Every feeling, memory bleeds into the next and I can't decipher where one begins and where it ends. This wall is built so high to keep me away from myself but in the long run it's dug a trench six feet deep to bury the secrets hidden behind the smile. Learning to hand sew it back on whenever it began to falter. I can only play caged animal for so long before I finally give in to the animalistic side of myself.
These walls are so high like the bathtub that's quickly filling with water that I've so ironically forgotten to stop, so as the water overflows the walls keep the water in, and now it's in my lungs, please god tell me I'm not drowning by my own ****** functions.
The doctors said this is how I cope, that it is on the edge of being emotional detachment disorder but I promise I feel fine.
These walls are built so high but that never discouraged them from breaking it down, accepting me with open arms I imagined is what felt like a mother's love but I never got to feel it.
Why won't anyone tell me why I'm so petrified by closed doors keeping the light on just seconds before it shuts only to run quickly into my mattress made of the baggage I carry with me. I must make a home within my mind so I did. And I lie awake every night tossing and turning on blood clots I forgot to let bleed out.
The space between them and me is so blurry around the edges I can't seem to feel it anymore, being detached for so long has made my reaction time slow to oncoming emotions like that semi mere seconds away from nearly taking your life away. I promise the alcohol is long gone from my system, but it was the one thing to help me feel. Every feeling, memory bleeds into the next and I can't decipher where one begins and where it ends. This wall is built so high to keep me away from myself but in the long run it's dug a trench six feet deep to bury the secrets hidden behind the smile. Learning to hand sew it back on whenever it began to falter. I can only play caged animal for so long before I finally give in to the animalistic side of myself.
These walls are so high like the bathtub that's quickly filling with water that I've so ironically forgotten to stop, so as the water overflows the walls keep the water in, and now it's in my lungs, please god tell me I'm not drowning by my own ****** functions.
The doctors said this is how I cope, that it is on the edge of being emotional detachment disorder but I promise I feel fine.
These walls are built so high but that never discouraged them from breaking it down, accepting me with open arms I imagined is what felt like a mother's love but I never got to feel it.
