Had a thicc fog,
had a dark bog
and its bad, bad
presence, manifest
and ****** me.

Here I thought it left me.

I think leaves me over,
over and over, again.

Had its tendrils
fill the holes full,
fill me with hope,
pull out suddenly
and depress me.

I thought it came for me,

turns out it does leave,
turns out it leaves,

most likely, when I need it.

So,
Bright Beam,
I offer you refuge,
I offer you         my bad blood,
If you'll only do
What I need done
I offer you         my ill love,
I offer you deluge,
Bright Beam,
So,

Please,
Fill me up.

I want to mourn
For all of me that died
So much of me died
All that’s left is this shell
Remnants of a person
I want to mourn
Because it hurts
I think
I wouldn’t know
Because I chose to silence it
Intervention in my death
I stopped dying
But I wasn’t revived
Just not dying
And now here I am
Not dying
But I’m so dead
Necrotic
And I can’t mourn
I can’t make the tears come
Because of that little white circle
I place on my tongue at night
It kept me from dying
But I’m not better
Just paused
I can’t mourn
All of me
That I lost

funny...
i was once thought that,
when i tried to swallow the pen and papers,
i will be able to write
without using my hand.

but i was wrong.

because every time you reminded me
that i don't know how to write,
reality will criticize me that
i am illiterate in fighting
in this mess up world.

illiterate.

an illiterate person who don't how to use
guns and swords in fighting
for the freedom of mind.

i am in masked.

a masked person
because  i tried to swallow
the words that persist to
pressed inside my mind that
"i am already lost even if the
fight is not yet started".

© IGMS