I feel a warmth within me But my head, it is spinning My back, turned from the world Cold and Desolation surround me Creeping closer each time I blink Still, my heart beats. Slow, Cautious, and Low... Can this warmth within me Still Grow?
There’s a bottle of my mother’s love Sitting on the kitchen table It’s gone sour It’s Sunday morning, In the piercing comfort of a place I once would’ve called home, And the world woke up and walked out on me
The aftermath of July grows right outside my bedroom window While I sit on a desolate strip of imaginary sand, With my head in a water cooler As significant as an ill-fated horsefly
I plant seeds of hope into my cranium that ill be laid out in the meditterian sea with the water hugging me I plant seeds of hope into my cranium that my heart is gold and titanium and that I will never again know the lows that I've known instead, I can just float float away swim away to a better place one not plagued with flawed structures one not filled with hungry vultures always looking for their next ****, their next meal but maybe it's just our culture, to **** maybe these seeds of hope will save me from this desolate land grant me a benevolent man so I plant my seeds again
Every inch of stone covered in weighted white Rolling and growing... growing and rolling... the only sound heard, ice kissing ice And my screams Do you hear it? The avalanche of my life It has a sound unlike any other A crescendo of every experience compounding on my soul, demanding to be seen, heard, felt, feared
Warning level 5 avalanche Please evacuate the area for personal safety, hazard may cause more calamity
An abandoned thought, A restless sigh, Dust remains, Where all has gone into nothing, Deserted, uncared for, it lays there, waiting, Staying, until it is swept away, In the course of time, Carried away, With a breeze.
This is just one step inside my desolate head, it's like a never-ending maze, a mansion with infinite rooms. There are marks on the walls, whispers that pierce like screams saying "you're never good enough, you'll never live up to your dreams". It's a carousel that's still spinning over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over.
Motion sickness has me feeling uneasy, a party of everything I hate, I'm constantly feeling queasy. All the pretty things I dream of always go away when my eyes open back up. The stories on this mansion are higher than the clouds, still I'm spinning and spinning over and over and over and over. I can't see the ground, stuck in these walls spinning over and over and over and over.
