My eyes

are sinking back into

my skull.

They leave two gaunt

craters

in the skin beneath each lower

eyeflap,

each which now darkens and

dissociates itself

from

a healthy pigmentation—

much in the same

fashion

as that in which I

myself

have darkened

and dissociated

from reality

Rushing through never seemed so lovely
Do I have to do this again?
How much time until it ends?
Phase through the routine and
Put up with the words spat in your face like venom
Who can blame you for being lazy?
It isn’t laziness making you this way
This is a universal feeling that no one knows how to explain
A lot of people don’t even know it’s there
Like
A poison slowly seeping into the gases we breathe
So subtle we barely even notice as it overtakes us
Controls us
But we are all under the veil of a lie that this is just how we are
Maybe it isn’t this day making us all mindless robots
Maybe it isn’t just enhancing our already full glass of depression
Maybe it’s ******* away at the energy of before
And maybe it’s doing nothing at all.
Since time is a concept, we just all search for things to blame for our own faults
Are we doing the same with this?
We have so much to look forward to.
That’s all we truly care about.

A self centered shallow cry for excitement that we buzz through what we could also be making exciting
We treat this day like a ghost fogging up our glasses when it is truly an opportunity smacked down into the middle of it all.
We all need a break, yes.
But what are we really taking a break from?

Three in the afternoon and everything is fuzzy
You feel the familiar prickling under your skin and welcome it with open arms
But you can’t feel your arms
This vessel isn’t your body
But at the same time it is
You’re watching yourself lay there hopelessly while you pray and scream And cry
Oh, God, please don’t let me die.

But you aren’t dead
But are you even alive?
A bittersweet medium where nothing is real and your chest is on fire
You live in the flames, you feel yourself escape the trap of gravity
And you are floating
The bed you lay on is no longer touching you
You are in the air, weightless, but only for a few moments before
You crash down to earth and farther
And farther down more
Falling into endless
Painless
Void.

Am I alone?
Am I real?
Words ramble off the tongues of a homely face
But the words got mixed up in Google translate
Foreign words ringing in your ears and you can’t tell if
If you are really experiencing everything you are
Or if you’re just playing make believe with yourself.

Back to nothing.
Always everything but.

I'm paid to paste this smile on my face
Though it's rarely ever there
Because money doesn't motivate the clinically depressed
As much as we all would like it to

No, I won't make it easy on you
It sure is hell isn't easy on me
Driving through town with my music loud
And a pain so heavy I can barely breathe
Trying to drown out the hurt in endless caffeine
That only makes my heart race faster
And my breath more shallow

And most nights it seems I'm fading
Into the hell that is this life
Because I feel almost nothing
Except the shame and guilt that comes with existing

And my counselor says that
dissociation occurs most
with having done something awful
But how can I explain that
Simply living my life
Feels like an awful thing
And my heart tells me that
Death is my destiny

i don't know how to explain it to you
this white skin is a canvas and i want to make it red
the trails of scarlet trailing down my skin,
the gouges in my skin, the crevices
they comfort me
when i see the canyons in my flesh
the hatred is eased and my mind is easier to please
there's a voice in my head that bays for my blood
and a gurgle in my heart that wants to swallow my life
me i bargain with the devil:
the body still lives but it will be broken
and he nods and lets me go and i am free
when the knife comes out and i drag it across my skin
my heart slowly starts to ease
the pain the confusion the frustration
the agony of being awake and aware in this head
it all becomes so much easier when there's some comfort i can see
it cannot **** me it heals with time
pink white faded lines across my shoulders
feel so comfortable and familiar when i'm gone
and my hands start floating away from my wrists
and there's a space in my head where my mind should be
i can't feel my body where is my body
what time is it where am i what was i doing why was i trying
to feel the scabs rocky and hard
i think clearer feel better know more soar higher
when the monster calls and i feel the itch in my fingers
i will do it again and self medicate
to cure the agony in my soul
and my breath will ease out into a relieved sigh
every part of me will cry for this bliss

im drifting in and out
floating around
this body does not belong to me

the clench of my hands
physical touch
its all so distant
this body does not contain me

my vision blurs
voices fade
this body is not helping me

the clothes i put on
hats i wear
the glasses that rest on my nose
this body does not represent me

staring in mirrors
clawing at skin
this body will be the death of me

My eyes are closed. Time creases between my fingertips.
Do not come looking for me.

I don't want to be found.
I don't want to exist,
not now.

When I am finished,
when the stars return to my eyes,
when I call your name, breathless with the effort of disappearing,
then you may come.

You may hold me.

i dont like lines like "i feel empty,"
"I am nothing"

but it's hard to describe the world from behind a thick-gray veil ,
peeking out, hands incapable of parting
those layers of gossamer

without reverting to the pithies i garnered
from young, only-just-realizing-angst

small glimmers of light or dusky shadows
pass across my roughly shielded eyes
sometimes,
for moments

my hands are not mine
my feet are not mine
I can't tell who
that hairy, unkempt,
ball-of-fat person is
glaring at me from behind the mirror,
the thick threads

someone else
has been sleeping
in my bed

someone else
has been writing
my tweets

someone else
has been
driving my car

i'm in limbo and i'd
much rather be
totally gone than in wait, wait, wait
for the day i wake up and
realize all They--

the person who stole my skin--

has done to hurt
the ones i love--

Something is broken.  And something hides out, cold, in thicket brush
shadowed by the thundering asphalt, tugging at its sleeves while
marveling of how the stars create such snowy, clear cold that touches their nose, their toetips, and their still forming *******.

And yet, awake.  They feel something warm-- click, slip, whip and crackle at the touch-- sparkle, like a human heart, nestled between gasps and shouts of their mother
in a rage.  There is a moon tonight, and her fury does nothing but deepen the chill
of the skin of their bare wrists against the weeds.

And something is broken.  And something wishes to recreate its sparkling whiteness
with warm sinews, blood-- a new heart, perhaps. Tiny fingers curled inside their barely
warming winter coat, they head for the house, where the hearth is slightly less freezing.