CAN SOMEONE EXPLAIN WHAT THAT THING IS?

everyday
you ask me
"are you okay?"
and everyday
i answer with the same
"im fine"
and you believe it.

you ask me if im okay
as if you didnt break me
you ask me if im okay
as if you had stayed
you ask me if im okay
as if it matters even the slightest to you.

no
im not okay
will i tell you?
no
so for now until then
i am okay

and i dont love you.

I let you touch me.
you were the first one.
my skin remained untouched.
I let you change that.
you touched her
and then
I disappeared.

I've come to a realization
that love is merely a concept.
an immitation of emotions inside our minds.
we dont know love.
its an idea that we attempt to make a distinct reality of.
its an interpretation.
everyone makes their own definition.
i dont know love.
love is a trick of the mind.
its a mixture of chemicals that spark when you look at me.
its a saddening representation of happiness that nobody can explain
you dont know love.

and you certainly dont feel it for me.

A S K  M E
W H A T  I S

W         O  
         R            N  G

Oh, creature of torment!
Come forth and allow me to feel again!

Strike me with your silence
Show me the distortions

DISCORD
                DISCORD
                                                                 DISCORD
                                              DISCORD
DISCORD

Inflate, exaggerate and corrupt what I see.
                        Cause strife.
             Cause dissensions.
     Tell me I was cast aside!

Messed about.
                                                    Toyed with.
                                         Bottom priority.
           This is irrational.

I wish I could write a little bit clearer for you, reader
but it appears as though I cannot fully express properly.

Watch this:
Taste this.

D I S C O R D.

Someday i was happy,
now tears falling down my face.

They so violently took me,
still warm from your embrace.

Life here ends,
cause you're something i can't replace.

i can't stand the cruelty
of the human race.

He drew elaborately but never nicely.
He drew flowers, cigarettes, and tears.

He drank elaborately but he never cried.
He drank beer but never flavored strawberry.

He collected his empty cigarette packets in his drawer,
like I collected the broken hearts and beaten skeletons of lost lovers in my closet.

In his black car, I looked down at the city lights at night,
while he looked in my eyes.

I let him touch my body and I let him touch my mind,
parts of me no one has ever touched or seen.
He let me delve in the tunnels where he hid his feelings, nightmares and dreams.

I never counted the days.
He took me to a zone of another time.

His upper lip was as scarred as his mind.
His eyebrows were softly arched trails for my thumbs.
His eyes were as dark as he wanted his soul to seem.
The darkness appeared on his skin only in the shape of a black tattoo of a rose that I’ve touched but never kissed.
Perhaps others have seen sparks of the little but strong light deep inside his heart,
but only I felt it with my hands and let it drown me.
Only I felt his warm tears rolling down my own cheeks.

The first time he said he loved me was the last time we talked.
He was in tears and in pieces.
And then he left me peace-less.

He was the only boy I haven’t told about love
even though he was the only person my heart had learned to love.

It feels like a dream
Lost in time
Lost in essence
Only to be awoken
By a deep depression

It feels like a motion
Passing through
Drifting slowly
Only to be halted
By a corrupt seizure

It feels like the unknown
Something untouched
With an obscene flavour
Only to be savoured
By an irresistible promise

It feels like a dream
Beacause I'm not awake
I never was
It feels like a dream
Because it is

Some things hurt with such intensity, and I don’t know why,

Sounds, smells, scenes.

It’s like I’ve been here before and experienced the most significant emotional event or worse, that it reminds me of a place I’ll never be again.

I can’t understand why they tug at my heart like they do, but I have to hold on to the pain, the sentiment; I can’t waste the emotion, I need to save it and use it, hold it and fuse it,
With some other part of my life.
Whether I intentionally make memories to fill a void made by one of these unknown bursts of feeling,
Or plan my future to head towards them and fulfill them...

I must do something,
To free myself from the thought,
That they may be nothing,
That my mind may be meaningless,
Even if it’s true,
I’d rather deceive myself,
And make it out of something that I drew.

Nothing can stop my mind’s emotion,
So I’ll just give it fuel to soak in.
I need a place to put them,
And burn until I’m deep in REM.
Dreams let my creativity thrive,
Because my waking self can’t give them all life.
I hold things you could never imagine,
Endless dreamscapes of comfort and strife.
Someday it will feel right,
The worst things that pain me will be greater in reality,
Someday it will all be in sight,
After years I will create more than I imagined in my ability.