My sanity has been rung out like a soppy washcloth.
The only thing worse than the quick glances and glares is
not knowing why. Headphones can only drown out so
much and I begin to wonder how such beautiful melodies
can now haunt me to the point where the chords of “O Holy
Night” stab me in the stomach with rusty knives. Somewhere
I was once so proud to call home is now my personal hell
without any rationale. The snow resembles the ashes of my
soul as I follow the path along what once was green. The
frozen puddle on the cracked ground reminds me that it’s
hard to loathe the eyes that look back into my own. No one
ever tells you that two plus two plus a few more equals one.
Words weigh me down and suddenly I am immobile. I swallow
each thought one by one until I run and collapse over the toilet.
It’s such a shame that no one gives a **** until you’ve hit the
breaking point.
Aug 4, 2017
Aug 4, 2017 at 11:34 PM UTC
My sanity has been rung out like a soppy washcloth.
The only thing worse than the quick glances and glares is
not knowing why. Headphones can only drown out so
much and I begin to wonder how such beautiful melodies
can now haunt me to the point where the chords of “O Holy
Night” stab me in the stomach with rusty knives. Somewhere
I was once so proud to call home is now my personal hell
without any rationale. The snow resembles the ashes of my
soul as I follow the path along what once was green. The
frozen puddle on the cracked ground reminds me that it’s
hard to loathe the eyes that look back into my own. No one
ever tells you that two plus two plus a few more equals one.
Words weigh me down and suddenly I am immobile. I swallow
each thought one by one until I run and collapse over the toilet.
It’s such a shame that no one gives a **** until you’ve hit the
breaking point.
written spring 2015
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