I write, deep ache inside.
I cry, not knowing why.
I sleep, one more pill.
I drink, just want a thrill.
I read, not to feel alone.
I eat, not to reach my bones.
I dream, fed up of my life.
I quit, one more time.
I smoke, feet leave the ground.
I fly, elevated mind resounds.
I apologize, failed again.
I fall, wish to be dead.

In a forest without trees
Where only a buzz is heard, not seen
She laid on black ground
Her belly up and her face down
She stared at the missing stars
Empty spaces of used up light, now just scars

Bathing in a sea of mud
She lifted her hands and saw blood
LIFE she thought, so from the ****** muddy pulp
A melting body she tried to sculpt
To bring to life from the wet dirt
A being to love her, although formed in a chaotic birth
To fill the voids with light and sense
Instead, a being stood, made of nonsense
Upsidebackwords and a grievous grin
For which she hugged dispute the sin

Pretending that light magically appeared
Knowing it was only her sanity that disappeared
Upsidebackwords and a spinning head
She would be okay here, amongst the dead
Living in an empty chaos was better than not
So she gave up what she had originally sought

Spent her life in the upsidebackwords, and forgot
That she created this being to aid her escape, but it was all for not.

This my everyday routine.
Get up, get ready, and run out the door.
Don't stop, don't look back, just run.
If I stop for one moment the voices will appear they will start talking again. Running from something I can't even see
It somehow haunts me every day. If I stop running If I stop trying to live it will come back again

Every time it comes back it’s harder and louder.
I don't know how to escape these voices
Sometimes their melodies sound so sweet and inviting
If I listen they will trap and engulf me into a dark and miserable place
I can't run forever
I will run for as long as I can before the voices come back again.

eyes closed
    entering oblivion
        this is the only
                    time
                      i
           ­       don't want
                          to
escape

my mind is muddled mush
scrambled to eggs
from filling up on
mind-numbing affairs
snoozing sedentary sores
and piling up on couch potatoes
eating up seconds
in a Netflix solo party haze
brain over-binging
and melting in the
lack
a
daisical
days
heart restless from resting
and raging from being robbed
walking the dog
to get some "fresh air"
but the road is the same
empty and sad
and if anything
the up down, up down
stop sit go, stop sit go
insensates my thoughts more
until it becomes a
swirling mash of sorrow
and bittersweet bric-a-brac
every article, every email
strikes a match that flickers out
but if it catches a wick,
it erupts, although quick
and anger devours my body
and my brain s c r e a m s
and screeches for escape
each lobe pounding
and punching
my nerves on fire
that dies as fast as it started
and then i'm back
waking to reading to running to dying
oily and oleaginous
all my ponders
pounded back into pulp
my horrible macerated mind

My eyes try to close
as tepid sweat stratifies on my clothes.
With cold feet and a hot head,
I struggle against the bed.
Although it comes to me rarely,
the tempest feeling of tingling insensitivity,
beautifully disgusting, is quite bittersweet.
The night should be simple,
yet it’s too brutal and holds me ungentle.
And so I pop pills like pimples
to give tranquility to my mental.

They’re not enough. It’s never enough.
One cup, just one since I’m already up.
One drink turns into two and I don’t feel rough.
But I feel...an implore for more. I wouldn’t bluff,
another gulp, another gulp, and I feel stuffed
interestingly enough. But I feel… handcuffed
with both pitiful pleasure and passionate pain,
the drinks are starting to drown my brain.

I fall down under the surface,
where the thunder can’t make me nervous.
Where I can’t sunder my purpose,
where I wonder what my worth is,
wearing wonder fiery as a furnace.
Hoping to plunder my brain’s service
with a hunger to recurve this
surly slumber of unbound defervesce.

These dreams beckon me to come play and see
a weightless joy, peace, even glee
without burden. But suddenly I only awake to see
complacency; ugly gluttony keeps me company.
My emotional darkness, despair, despondency,
countered by my own chaotic nepenthe,
gives me sad servitude disguised as lying liberty.
The turmoil in my thoughts twists, turns
like mazes as my mind mends, burns
deeper, deeper, deeper down.
Just to sleep, I turn into a clown,
holding a bee for honey as it stings me.

home life is like an abusive relationship
some days hold soft sunsets and gentle words
exchanges that make you believe it's alright
watching ****** expressions as you eat dinner
whispered good nights
some are rougher, leaving tears leaking in secret
whine and dreams of days before
hope pulling at heartstrings tell you not to forget the better
some days make you wish you succeded all those years ago when depression was your only personality trait
with dark nights only shifting the hue of the stark black
exchanges deepen the already pounding wound
I wish I left back then almost as much as I do now
a few months and ill be free for a while
college will be my forbidden lover, whisking me away from the jury

but this house will never be a home to me

Would someone hear a whisper talking?
“Let’s count one moment of peace together,
only between us…”
He breathes into Lydia’s ear until her soul
passes on his fragrance.

He is her soul, she knew it.
And she wouldn't escape his magic spells,
But why would any soul in this world
want to escape from?
When the lunar night reaches to the sky
They fled to an ecstasy screen, together.

She asks him:
“Is everyone a shadow of the Beloved?
Yes, it is.”  He carved an ‘L’ shape on an old tree
Would our seeking be where our moon is seeking?
Could our words be lunar Lydia’ words?

Aren't there enough questions to end with a silence?
Where it leads to the core of our lives.

Isn't all your talk worthless?
Lydia whispered to him,  compare our whispers
to the Beloved.