I wake up under our tree, next to her
The oranges and pinks of the sunset in the distance are a blur

I don't even care that she's gone, she's next to me
"Rose, stop stressing!" She says, "can't you finally see?"

"You helped us! You saved us all."
"But you're dead," I respond, "so why do you stand tall?"

"Plus, it's not fully back yet, they're all gone still."
"I know, Rose. You're incredibly ill."

Her skin melts into the roots of the tree
The tree decays until just a stump in front of me

The pinks and oranges of the sunset turn into rain
I run through the dying grass, wondering if I'm sane

I run through thick fog until a ruined castle is in my path,
still injured from its past with the Wrath.

I then realized my nightmare must've been a memory
Behind me is him, "Hi, Professor Emery!"

I think to myself, "this will only be a memory of the past",
as the student's skin and the castle walls begin to melt fast.

in my dreams
i am drowing in a sea of emotion.
my head held just below the surface of the water
and all i have to breathe through is a straw

The nightmares I have in my mind while my eyes are open are far worse than the nightmares I have when I lie my head down on the pillow.
I’d much rather awaken to me falling than to breathe through these thoughts of loved ones dying.
I often wonder if I’d awaken to find that it’s all just an imaginary dream
But everything’s the same day by day night by night
I’d much rather be having sleep nightmares than awake nightmares at least the nightmares when I’m asleep give me a break.
Do you ever get a break ?

Missouri
I'll awaken myself to avoid bearing witness
The ex of my first became the rebound of my last
No ******* way

(Inspired by Carlo C Gomez’s ‘The Lacemaker‘)

We’re manufactured girls,
designed to be beautiful and pointless.

Everything we tell you has to be true,
we feel we can open up to you.

We’re decorated and prepared for sacrifice.

We can touch your tender isolation
and reinforce your inadequate truths.

We can mirror your internal struggles
and help you shape your damnation.

You’ve caressed our powerless distress
a thousand times, with sleep's dark hands.

Don’t feel your destroying something beautiful

You know, when privately accessible
in the darkness of your man cave
our soft, immediate shapes
excuse extraordinary behavior.

That’s all we want.
.
.
A song for this:
Genesis. by RAYE

i don’t know if it’s the noise
or the sweat
or the feeling of hands pressing on my neck
that wakes me up

but there i was, strapped to a hospital bed
pushed into the forbidden oblivion
of all the kind men who punched me in the face
when all i asked for was forgiveness
for not acting as if it was arousing

you’re giving me a big grin
as you lay your scrubs on the floor
and tell me how much i wanted it
but am i really enjoying it
if i wake up looking for your blood under my nails?

as you unzip my jeans
i scream for my mother,
since she’s as good at killing men
as I am at reaching out to murderers

you'll ask yourself why I can't sleep
but please, don't make me sleep ever again
and i'll never look you in the eyes once more
you'll tell yourself I'm just autistic
but the truth is to this day
I'm still afraid of the wrong men