Tøast 9m
Well these cocaine naps have got me waking up drunk.
Broken knuckles and scars I don't remember.
So many days spent in a daze,
Drinking and smoking haze.
A complex distraction for a complex problem.
It's killing me, I know, but maybe that's better than nothing at all.

How can you ask a self destructive mess to not be paranoid.
All the nights I spend hating myself
Analysis to a grand scale, of every miniscule detail.
Every second of the sunset, every plant that grows I turn to dust.
Why can I only ruin this paradise,
Too late to save someone, too fucked up to let someone love me.

This is pain,
Ruining my chances and knowing what I've done.
Hating myself for the actions I do, and the things I don't say.
Blaming myself, constantly.

But let's do another line, and wash it down with spirits,
Drown them in substances and pretend we're okay until it kills us.
Waffles 1h
If I were to draw me
If I were to paint me
If I were to create a physical representation of me me

I would draw a dancer
One who seems in control
Like she has it together
Like she has full command of her movements, of the floor, of her partner, of the music
She knows what she is doing and she is doing it well
Her partner trusts her
The floor trusts her
She does not trust her
She is making it up as she goes
But she knows she is making it up wrong
But they can't know that.

I would draw a child
full of insecurities
Full of rebellion
Full of doubt - in herself; in the world
A black hole for love
A vessel of fear
But they can't know that either

I would draw me as a kind warrior. A commander
as I step into an imaginative reality that is aided by games, by friends.
I am confident there.
My mistakes are large, but there is nothing real to lose - we can always try again.
My compassion is a rare gem, noticed by any who get close enough to look
(mainly jagged rocks are seen in these seas)
The friendships are Real. And I am too.

I would draw myself as a child.
At least, that is how it would look at first
I would be standing next to a man, my dad.
Upon looking closely, one would realize the man is the child.
And the child is the adult.

I would draw myself as a mom
Picked by her kids. Chosen. Looked up to.
Seen as cool, wise, infallible. A great mom. One full of love.
They would only be right about that last part
And they would only be right about that last part sometimes
Is it a spiritual disease? allowing you to feed, building unease.
Is it a trauma bond? That has gone along too long, ignoring the facts in the way you act.
Is it a syndrome continuing on? That you made feel peaks, that snapped me down to be a weak drained well.
Is it a delusion and an illusion? That by emotions and sympathies, that I can't set fully free in disbelief.
Is it a blindness of the moments of kindness? After the past tarring down, inside rationality warning me to leave. The reckless side wanting to see.
It is that I'm prime, an easily weakened mind?
As once I love I give myself unconditionally, deluding myself of transparency and believe profusely.
Is it stupid to repeat? After elusive actions that disallowed the rise of the brighten insides. Which in past plummeted me to a disgusting shadow, screaming for reprieve.
A right to breathe, the fear to illuminate or show my tears.

The question is can I trust?
Conflicted sides making my mind go a ride, searching for what is right.

Copyright 2018
Abigail Sheard
She was the only plaster that
I needed to cover wounds, because
no one saw the cuts deepening beneath.
scratching at my tears, crying underneath.

But I never knew that she was the one
silently unstitching my wounds. She'd begun  
long before I was cut, but her words kept
me from realizing tears weren't for me id wept.

She never needed a reason to cut me deep inside.
I was the doll, stuffing pulled from within denied
the respect of my pride. but still I thought her my
plaster healing this cut, while reality cut deeper, why?

Why would she want to hurt what was our love,
why could one cut at that that showing her truelove.
A plaster only hides pain, covering up  intentions
of a misguided trust. I became my own intervention.

Life since our love had blossomed had been rough,
our petals were razor wire memories of those tough
times we had seen before. But I thought our time
had coated those petals, washing away past grime.

She never needed a reason to cut me deep inside.
I was the doll, stuffing pulled from within denied
the respect of my pride. but still I thought her my
plaster healing this cut, while reality cut deeper, why?

I now know that some cuts weren't mine, sharing
her past with me. But instead of healing,cutting, wearing
down what was within me. I needed to feel whole be
myself within no cuts seen. I loved her, but I was unfree.
lilhadi 2h
Me, you, at an aquarium, holding hands & looking at sea turtles
lilhadi 2h
"I want to love you, really I do.
The connection we have is extraordinary, and we both prefer tea over coffee.
But I’ve felt the heartbreak. I’ve been witness to the shattering of friendships, loss of friends, loneliness of the aftermath. And I can’t go through it again.
So call me self-destructive. But I’m not the type to risk it all when I just taped my soul back together."

j. e. b --  ((About Being Afraid to Love))
There is no gold for the best deeds,
Sometimes, a thank you isn’t even present.

We commit virtue because it’s right,
Not for a very special prize.

There are no points for entering heaven,
Just strive to be a good person every day.

It starts with small gratitude,
Like helping the needy across the street.

Making a difference based on selflessness,
Not for earning a seat into paradise.
your love is like a cheap wine
i can taste the high; it turns sour
poured over my wound
crawling inside, eating me alive
i need more. then i'm alcoholic.
oh the joys
no the pain.
To be in love is a curse,
appealing but dark.
Short-lived love,
my old friend,
who comes to visit me again.
There is no place for you
here.
You are a nomad, you do not settle.
Unsettled you make me.
You make me dream,
consume me.
You are but a child.
Be gone, young love.
(the vulnerable and fickle young heart)
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