Misery seems to have welled up inside me again
And once again old instincts are kicking in
Urging me to find another victim
Another one to expose my seemingly innocent underbelly to,
Another one to spew my venom on
Another one to entangle in my confused web of logic
But I know now
My heart aches not for any individual,
But for an ideal-
A saviour that can take all my burdens
And purge me of my heavy heart and disquiet mind and haunting thoughts
Because in a night like this
My chest is swelling and swelling and I'm choking and struggling to breathe and I grasp
At the nearest individual who would be interested
Interested enough not to sidle away at the first signs of my pregnant mind
Full of Misery, despair, confusion, depression, it's all messed up in my head
Tumbling out in a mess of prose and poetic verse and just fragments
And I need to be held together by somebody other than the fragile threads of imagined self hood I have woven together
From expectations of others.
And just like this mess,
There is no conclusion, and my mind wanders off,
Running out of words with which to explain this void I wish somebody could fill
Jun 20, 2014
Jun 20, 2014 at 12:53 PM UTC
Misery seems to have welled up inside me again
And once again old instincts are kicking in
Urging me to find another victim
Another one to expose my seemingly innocent underbelly to,
Another one to spew my venom on
Another one to entangle in my confused web of logic
But I know now
My heart aches not for any individual,
But for an ideal-
A saviour that can take all my burdens
And purge me of my heavy heart and disquiet mind and haunting thoughts
Because in a night like this
My chest is swelling and swelling and I'm choking and struggling to breathe and I grasp
At the nearest individual who would be interested
Interested enough not to sidle away at the first signs of my pregnant mind
Full of Misery, despair, confusion, depression, it's all messed up in my head
Tumbling out in a mess of prose and poetic verse and just fragments
And I need to be held together by somebody other than the fragile threads of imagined self hood I have woven together
From expectations of others.
And just like this mess,
There is no conclusion, and my mind wanders off,
Running out of words with which to explain this void I wish somebody could fill
When your flu medicine makes you drowsy and suddenly you forget all your boundaries and you become painfully self-aware and vulnerable (and write rambling things you'll regret the next day when the wooziness wears off)
