Benzo, blur my mornings and bury my feelings. Beat down my misery and banish my ecstasy. Steal my sweetness and turn my stillness sour. Spit out a new me, and the old me, devour. You stick in my throat like a longing to say something I had too soon, too easily forgotten. Trapped and helpless at the tip of my tongue is each little thought and each one turns rotten. Now all my worries wash grey and bore me asleep, as time stops his march and slows to a creep that claws through my head, and the worries unsaid are left to fester in a foul and filthy old heap. Though they may reek like flesh on a dying fire, I could take them or leave them just where they are. I have no heat, no bold and burning desire to do anything but nothing, and, so, to nothing I retire. Leave me be beeping alarm that screams like a maniac so desperate to jump to his next brewing thought. Leave me be roaring traffic, so equally manic, leave me here in my head to lose this loose plot.
i'll spend my night lying awake staring at the ceiling waiting for him to message me but he never does, i knew this anyway i knew he wouldn't eventually, after hours of crying and turning and bleeding, i'll tire myself out and my eyes will close and, due to my luck, he'll message five minutes later but he wont reply when i reply he won't talk after that he'll tell me he loves me sometimes just to try and stop me crying but it doesnt stop me crying lies do not comfort me anymore lies do not dry my cheeks but i'll eat them like my last meal and then he'll disappear and i'll leave it until he messages again and i'll cry and i'll bleed and i'll punch myself and i'll ignore everything good in the world because he refuses to experience it with me he doesn't want to experience it with me because i am not good. i am worthless and he knows it and they know it and i know it and i'll imagine myself being ice like i was before but somehow his embers have burned through me and it's too heated for me to freeze over again and i'll lay awake at night waiting for him to message me but he won't he doesn't i knew he wouldn't, i didn't expect anything else and he'll tell me he loves me and i'll eat his lies like my last meal desperately trying to find some form of solace but i don't they taste sour i look at him like he is a diamond and he looks at me like i am a pebble and i am so filled with anger so much fire, i'm not used to fire i want to be cold again so it will stop hurting but it won't. it's too hot here i'll lay awake at night staring at the ceiling trying to figure out how i can become good enough or even just enough but it won't work and i'll cry and bleed i want him out of my veins
you are fragile and the boy in the year above you calls you fat and the girl in the row behind says you look like a rat and you sit and think about it for a few minutes minutes turn to hours, hours turn to days and soon you've lost track of the last time you ate and soon you've become obsessed with your weight you forgot what colour your skin used to be because your arms are covered in red lines and you cry all the time
you are fragile and the girl in the hospital bed groans she is short and she is thin, skin and bones this girl is you and there is only one thing you need to do but again, all you can do is cry all you hear the doctor do is sigh you hear the boy in the year above has died drunk with a car, an upsetting fate and the girl in the row behinds period is late when was the last time you ate?
you are fragile and the man in the street smiles he stares for a while he soaks up any sadness laughs at your jokes you are happy - madness you remember what colour your skin was and the last time you ate because he has fixed you
stop pretending no one loves you stop pretending no one cares about you you care if you didn't care you wouldn't wake up you wouldn't give your lungs the oxygen they need give yourself credit you are the one who throws the blades out of the window and listens to your head and your thoughts you are the one who deals with your pain and manages to drag you out of bed for a shower every so often you are the one who goes into recovery because you want to live no one else stays up to the late hours drying your tears and listening to every deep breath and sob
and you long for someone to although you already have someone