Onto parallel lines, onto ivory sheets
Letters. Words. They pour out of my soul
A torrent of scribbles, words flying with each heartbeat
Bleeding out as if they could patch my holes

There's too much I have to say
Not enough time, not enough room
Messy scrawls, white against gray
My mind and self, the madness consumes

I've treated my body like nothing but just flesh
When really, it has of its own a mind and a soul so warm
Bruised, torn apart, self abused, cut and treated like trash
Pleasure for some or me in need of some self-harm,
I trace each scar along my body over and over
So deserving of this torture
I can feel the agonising pain
All this blood is beginning to leave a huge red stain

There's so much that you could say
to back up an irrational behavior
to cover for it.
A confession or
An excuse—
about a faltered mental state,
amid illusions, sights, incantations
of hearing a voice—
of exorcery
and of being possessed.

The only one thing that you weren't allowed to speak of,
was of you being you
willing the act.
Willing it
out of volition.

To be savage, and unhinged,
is a sin,
is blasphemy.
But why?

The Devil is obscene and real,
so is the savagery within
unleashed where you have wandered
out of reach from the realms of sense and conscience.
into Dionysian.

Dwell with me.
“ Come unto the dark.”
“ Let there be no fear. ”

my heart hasn’t broken again
in more months than i imagined
I haven’t lost control of life
at least haven’t wanted to take the dive

but something does not feel right
there’s a strange feeling in my heart
the kind where you always feel scared
like any minute you’re gonna be scarred

though i still try day by day
to do anything to stay mostly sane
i can’t help but wonder every night
if insanity is truly all that bad

they say when you hit rock bottom
that’s when you’ll finally come up
but what if there is no end
what if you just keep falling down

It had been almost a year now.
Scrounging around for supplies was proving tiresome.
Everything either went rotten or protected by wild beasts.
In this world ravaged by flares, animals who had seemingly taken over the world for themselves, were fighting simply for survival.
The man locked himself in a room with all he could secure.
But at this point, his sanity was at its breaking point.
He sat nursing his wounds from his last fight with a wolf.
He wondered, against which monstrous animal he was going to have to fight for his life next.
Which demonic creature was going to try tearing him apart limb from limb for a bit of food.
Which savage brute was going insane and was willing to rip apart his bones, if it meant surviving for another day.
Then he heard a knock on the door.

My monsters mate then they duplicate
I offer contraception; but it's too late.
They wish to reproduce, I only wish they'd reduce,
and it would be truly perfection if we could call a truce.

And my demons dance, what a sweet romance,
I turn off the music but they move to chants.
They wish to cause a stir, but I would prefer
if they wouldn't abuse it; it's meant to deter.

Play a song and put on a show,
they wish to belong but I want them to go.
There's no escape, there's no debating
that they're in great shape and the monsters are mating.

My monsters mate after their date,
I provide protection but they won't take the bait.
They crave sweet intimacy, just like me,
but the affection is laced with toxicity.

And my demons dance almost in a trance,
now I'm going deaf from my own rants.
They wish to cause a scene and I'm not too keen,
turn right cause on the left the grass could always be more green.

They sway to a loving bloom,
and they're banging hard in my head.
So I tell them to just get a room
and they say I should go to bed.

Play a song and put on a show,
their love might be wrong but atleast it creates a glow.
There's no end in sight and my nerves are grating,
day always turns to night and the monsters are mating.