Once the Devil told me "You're not strong enough to fight the storm." Today, I whispered into his ear "I am the storm."- unknown

I am uncomfortable. It feels like the very bones in my body are revolting themselves. My stomach is tied in knots, my head is pounding and my heart feels so heavy that it seems to be collapsing my chest. Oh, what a horrific war it is when your instincts battle your beliefs and you are forced to be the battleground.

I feel a warm, rotting coldness in my gut. It feels like a corpse in a coffin. I feel like a funeral, a morgue, a tragedy.

The problem is, I don’t seem to feel anything. Not anymore. My emotions are numb, like they have been submerged into an ice bath and have not yet been lifted out. I want to feel sad, I want to feel depressed and get over it; but I feel nothing.

I feel nothing. Just this corpse in my chest and this pounding elation in my head and this urge to feel but not feeling.

It has been five years.
It has been five years.
Half a decade. Five out of seventeen years of my life, this addiction has been a part of me.

Because for as long as I have had this addiction I have been haunted by the event, the moment I went from innocence to lust and I regret it.

My body now hungers for something I do not want. I am saying no to myself and myself isn’t listening, my hunger is molesting me.

This is what it does. It excites you, makes you want it before you understand what it is, and then when you do it has cornered you. It has played its game and you are now its pawn and you cannot escape. It twists you around like a puppet on strings, twirling you across its stage and making you intimate with every niche of its addiction. And then the sadness comes. It comes in waves and washes the strings out and for a time you are safe. You are allowed to drown yourself, to float through an abyss that expects nothing of you. But then the tide turns and it retreats again and the addiction makes sure to chomp down any ground its lost, and gains more. You return to your strings and continue to dance in a jiggling dangling fashion and it continues.

Finally, you cut the stings, shorten them a bit and it loses a bit of its grip but overall it just holds you closer to itself with the shorter strings and you are left with a numbness similar to when you are held too tight. Too tight.

That is addiction, you become entangled in a thing that you don’t want. An urge that attaches itself to you like a spider web and softly encroaches on yourself. Makes its way into your hearth and home and shuts out the fire. Smothers it, till the room grows cold and there is nothing left. No heat, no flame, no spark, nothing. Just ash and ash and ash and memories because that is all ash is, memories. The leftovers of the flame, the leftovers of the life you had before it all turned gray and oh what a horrible bitter thing it is. It is forced to be consumed down your throat and coats and coats with its gray coat and you become a gray thing, an ashy flake.

That is all I feel right now.
That is all I am, for a time.
I do not feel anything else.
It’s true that from dust man rose and to dust man returns.
I just never thought I would return to my origins like this.

i cant seem to shake this feeling
that the walls breathe
and at night i pray the paranoia gone
but the hallway does not seem
as empty as it appears

i fear the death of a loved one more than my own death

i can remember the small moments before hearing of someone's death

i can remember every millisecond

silence
numbness
disbelief

they're saying she killed herself
they're saying she killed herself
they're saying she killed herself

time stops in death

frozen
and
embedded
into my mind
into my life

the mental scars
i carry
a wound that never heals

I can't eat Ramen.
Which *****, cuz I love Ramen!
The broth is so good!


Curley fries are great.
They're better than normal fries.
Nobody knows why.


DVD's aren't dead.
I like the commentary.
That's why I buy them.


Thesauruses help,
But is using them cheating?
I will never know.


Okay, I'm done now.
Seriously, you can go.
They're just dumb haikus!

how by chewing wildflowers
til your tongue turns numb because
you're enamoured by the way it sounds
when you slur your words.
your gums turn black and
when you smile all i see is
pips and petals stuck between your teeth.
oh you're so pretty.
you're a real loose cannon, tendrils
tethered to every orifice and
every breath smells a little more
like the grim reaper is sleeping
in your mouth. i can see he's
making quick work of your gums.
but it works.
better that than he move into your chest
or burrow any further
in your head.

my body is thick like a tree trunk. the leaves that cling on are the hairs the razor missed last night. the branches are my arms that are becoming weak like sticks every day because i can't bench more than the bar. my body is a home where i  used to leave the door wide open and now it's slammed shut with a padlock but that's not enough to keep the hatred from coming in. my body says you need dresser drawers, bed frames,chairs,couches to keep that door from ever opening again. my body is a sanctuary filled with "likes and ums" because my tounge ran out of locutions a long time ago. my body is an algebra 1 class i've learned to hate. learned like it was something i had to practice perfectly. like it was some sort of equation and i finally solved it. my body is a landfill that can't seem to make it to the home depot to buy soil to cover up the stretch marks, the scars,the bumps from the razor, the cellulite that aligns every inch of my thighs,all of these deficiencies are waste that are crumbling into the dirt. my body is a thrift store that only sells baggy mom jeans and asthetic sweaters but that's never been enough to please my closet. my body is april 8th a birthday full of craziness. my body said try not eating. neglected . deprived from any nutrients. i was pleased when a cool droplet of water  slid down my throat making me feel like antarctica was at my fingertips. i let my cheek bones narrow in. let my hip bones stab every person i embraced. bringing them in just so i could feel accomplished for proving there was something under the fat. letting my lips crinkle and turn a light purple not even chap stick was enough to save them. my body is a broken heart, glass shards skewered like shesh kebabs in my aorta. squirting out the barbarous memories of you. ripping me into pieces and burying me in a place i didn't know existed. my body is an hourglass that's always seems to run out of time but my body isn't skinny in the middle. the sand inside is my weathered down dreams that i've yet to succeed it always seems to get stuck in the middle and i fill it up with more sand that gets stuck in the middle and it all just ends up in my stomach making me want to ***** up everything i ate that day but i don't have the strength to put my finger down my throat. i don't have the strength to put up this fight. i'm using my long nails to gut my mouth open like a cantaloupe **** every taste bud and then i'll never know the difference between celery and candy.