I'm emotionally detached,
in twenty nine days ninety panic attacks,
I see through your eyes,
straight to your past,
the times that you meant it when you really laughed.
Your crescents hate light,
and descend through the day,
I'm deciding my mind between painful and sane,
dividing a line between not okay and opaque.
I know my life's doubtful,
more mournful than most.
Lost in translation as feeling the least,
a leash on my brain and one sense of release.
I wanna meet sharpness to puncture my breath,
rather than losses I can't reconnect-

I'm not staying,
it's my blame.
I'll leave the innocent;
I'm not the same.
I've got blood on my hands.
Pressure to understand.
You're right.
You've always been.
I tend to forget.
I won't bother you,
still my existence bothers me.
My mind smothers me.
The nights scare me;
comfort is scarce.
The dark makes things worse,
and this silence hurts.
It can be so loud,
the noise of nothing.
The sounds of your thoughts,
utterly isolated.
I love y'all;
but I don't love myself
I can't live up to what you all think of me-

It's a constant battle.
I'm finding shells on my floor,
and a flood of defeat.
They got me again.
They tore up my flag;
and flattened my heart that scoped out nonsense.
I'm getting into fist fights with the mirror.
This world doesn't matter to me.
My bleeding nose and horrid mind are too naive for you to think that I am free;
breaching a shadow too small to cover me.
Mediums hover me,
and you call to connect with me.
Against my brain;
and induced will.
Against reality to assist a thrill-

I think I lost my mind,
Between finding myself
And letting parts go that
I'm not sure of anymore.
I needed the strength to bind
My brain together, but what's left
Isn't enough, and getting it back
Is leaving my heart sore.
Friends are slipping away,
Because I do not have control
Over what I do, or if I talk
About the pressure of being myself.
Sad thing is, I'm losing more each day,
The war opened up my soul,
I knew I was not
Normal since I met this hollow desk,
And my mind worked itself away-

If I'm worth the fight,
then I can take a hit.
It isn't whether I win,
it's if I refuse to quit.
That's funny, because just wait,
for about 24 hours.
Where I'll gain the tremors,
but lose uncertain power.
An inner conflict is my battle,
but one I don't think ends.
Should I be authentically useless?
There's a home I could transcend.
I could ascend upon my limits,
I'm a king to every kind of thinking.
I control my darkness,
in the rapid form of blinking.
Open, close, open, close,
My fists could match the sides.
They're knocking on my skull,
of course I'm gonna abide.
I lost purpose when I dropped value,
when nothing stopped me from the pain.
if all I give to the world is anger,
why shouldn't I receive the same??
---------------------------------------------

Speechless, ignored, could
You even miss me at all
If I fell away?

If I drowned like my
Words that everyone doubted
And learned to neglect?

A silent heartbeat,
With the silence you put to
Everything I say?

I wish a friend would
Like my company, I just
Haven't found one yet-

Kaliedoscope colors, shaped as a rectangle outline of my door-
and I can't go out and see the beauty of it. A gray room,
with a blue face, laced into rushing in another pumping day.
Provoke the guilt, wilted meaning every breathing being has.
I'll leave someday, in someway, maybe not this moon fall,
but I know I can't live, thoroughly at all-

Poking fun at my
Insecurities will pop
My helium heart

Like a balloon; I
Can only take so much, I
Have bursted open

The pressure killed
  Me-

send my mind away to the crows.
their ****** will grow and feed off my guilt,  there's no will in a way of destruction and pain. so much hate in my brain my heart takes the thrill. if it was a trip then I'm overdue, if it's all was my fault then my fall out is true, there is no point for my doubts to break through, as though I'd thought I could outlive the moon,
look . . . . the birds are resting just a few miles away,
I hooked . . . . my thoughts to a line that could go either way,
breathe . . . .  and yet all it releases are thoughts of unease,
saved . . . . thousands of worries I hope would be freed.
and yet all I've learned is livid souls can't survive, and there's more impulsive acts due to pain in the night, as if when the sun goes down we run out of reason, and the darkness within us becomes more alive.
if in the time being, the pain is still eaten, am I a free man or a one within treason?
if the joy that I get is from moments of numbness,
have I received it or faked my own freedom?
be honest....

as each memory burned deeply in me, I knew
they'd be stuck there forever. forever in my mind, smoking and smothering me. I'm still rubbing soot off my skin and hoping it won't stick again. the past is over and yet, when I get scared it's all the same. stop, drop, and roll. sometimes I'll cover my face as I cry and hope my tears will be enough to put out the flames. the doorknob feels hot... so don't ask why I don't come out. i still feel it. the fire's still there. still burning in the back of my mind, and I'll always take precautions before trying. just trying to live. but how am I meant to when my past keeps burning me alive?