What doesn't **** you Makes you wish you were dead That taste of the edge Latches onto your bones And grows like the mold In the plaster basement cracks In the pit of my soul That grows deeper and deeper And I can't take The heavy weight Of my own screams And my buried mistakes One more moment of silence Might as well shatter me I'm a porcelain doll With a fragile disposition Easily offended and losing friends The loneliness is haunting me Animating the skeletons I sleep beside I'm too scared To lay in my bed Ever since she left So I make my home In a nest of scarves And support myself The best I can But the weight of the world's getting harder to hold up I'm the furthest thing From Atlas I do my best But since when has "best" Meant anything
Some of the lyrics of the actual song Drown are weaved in here; or more I weaved my own words into the song. Just doing some experimenting here.
I hunger for attention, As if each like, view or subscription, Changed the description of me. That my worth was tied, To each follow as hollow as my heart. Yearning for internet fame, When my wounds are to blame, For the despicable state that is me
Saturday, August 11, 2018 9:43 PM
Why do I want internet points, what would that prove? Drowning in a sea of people all yearning to be acknowledged... there has to be a better way...
I haven't written at length for a long time now and my maelstorms are worse. I haven't written for my heart and the protest inside has reached a crescendo of violence. The dam is at its limit and I am the explosion waiting inside. My conductor has quit and the orchestra has lost its sanity, timbral destruction and cymbal apocalypse. I watch helplessly the drowning flutist and the bleeding pianist. Whale song rings in my ear all the time, and I am tired of this dismembering dissonance. My nostrils flare in the polluted river and the acid water has reached my lungs. They burn with the intensity of jealous stars and pull me in like black holes. Sometimes the heat is too much and the cold offers nightmarish dreams of death. So I bear the burden of two jackets soaked in ice water. My teeth, eyes and nails feel like they might fall into my food and I won't have the energy to even care for self-cannibalism. The church has fallen on our heads and my life is frothing at the mouth. The madness is finally settling in, violently setting up camp in my soul. My veins pulse rhythmically like the drums in a System of a Down song.