is it painful when you crave to put your neurotic love into a hot bath and wash away the insanity all the people "watching" him all the things coming for him you try to soak him into a dream you don't want him to become sane but you want him to be aware enough to blow bubbles off his hand toward you
I'm hurting everyday But I know one day he'll pay Karma will rein Revenge for my pain My stomach aches All my joy he takes Every morning I wake Reminded of my errors I'm visited by night terrors He's cursed my dreams My mind full of fiends The past 3 years Haunted by fear I still can't look in a mirror Because I'm disgusted by what I see An empty shell Whispering a silent plea Violated and used My ego is bruised Betrayed trust My heart crumbling to dust
Killing myself has always been a back burner option Been something floating in the foreground like an exit sign in a dimly lit room that I’ve never used See, I wake up every day and choose not to use it I decide it’s all worth it The way the cold makes my thighs red on a Friday night How the crisp winter breeze reminds me what it’s like to feel something How you made me feel good, past tense and bad present tense but **** isn’t it a gift to feel this range of emotions again I feel all this love and heartbreak that I never thought I would again I thought the winter wind made me numb but instead it made me realize how wonderfully alive I am I would never do anything to change that, I’ll never take the quick exit For that, havent I won, something?
Overwhelmed is a term tossed around to the point of underwelming. I am a depressed person in a glass cage, with no way to hide my fear. Like a million little cuts across my body, and not a **** one distracts me from myself. I feel like I'm pounding on the glass screaming, "I wish you would just be happy!"
I'm a depressed person wanting telling a depressed person the worst things to say to depressed people. The irony is a silent needle that sews the lips shut. Pretend you're alseep while pretending to be alive. I sacrifice myself for others worthy of the life. Exhausting to carry their burdens, and the tears they can actually cry. Faces rest in palms as if hands are any sort of shelter. Inability to let things go makes me feel like I have to rip them apart. Living like this makss you ill beyond belief. All I want is a good night's sleep.
If I can identify the problems with the actions that I take, and the moves that I make mere seconds after flapping my lips, or twisting my lips, then
why do I do what I do? I don't know. If you're asking whether I think it's a good thing, or a bad thing. . .
How long is it before "just what I do" delivers you to prison walls from paradise? How far is too far, to let my personality drag my brain around?
If I'm self aware, I'm on the borderline. Control me, will you, my rampant ways? I have you centered in my sights better than I ever have, and it's now I think to tell myself, Action must yield choices more than Piety or Wantonness. As a for instance, if I see myself clearly, can I drop the gun as long as I develop disclosure and transparency?
I'm ******* you, I already know my answer's yes. From my experience, honesty invites the utter end of communion, and from this, you inherit an abject loneliness.
I get lost in my own words don’t know where I end and the character begins. Writing to keep the ink from spilling the blood in my veins flowing. Wishing that time would start slowing. There is so much to do so much time to sleep so much time to fill knowing that it is time to replace the silence and speak the truth.
Brandishing a scalpel I chisel free my heart Lift it thumping to my lips Taste the first brawny bite My own lifeblood drips down my chin as I smirk in victory. In matters of the heart, one must consume or be consumed.