subside the restless, crashing waves.

free my mind from this prison.

i am tired.
i am lost.
i've lost all meaning of the word, hope.

now, i just survive,
but only just...

egged on by the pluck and strike of the dancing tunes i force myself to listen to,
just to distract myself from all the raging stimuli.

emotion-sensory overload

perhaps, it's time i tried something new.
to stare into fear, and run it through...

maybe the little white pills aren't the boogyman,
the monster under my bed.

the monster is in my head,
and perhaps,
this little white pill...
just may put him away for a little while,
one day at a time.

subside the restless,
thoughts in my head.


~~~~~~~

this is my therapy.
so that i can breathe.

this one's not for you,
it's for me to read.
but if you really want to,
so can you.

See me, I dance for you,
The dance that no one notices.
Hear me, I sing for you,
The song that leaves my lips for yours.
Touch me, I’m here for you,
Surrounded by so many but wanting only you.
-Desire

Don't call him angel, if you never see him sin.
Don't call him treasure, if you don't know anything.
But just call him danger, cause that's what perfectly suits him.

yawning over existentialism
too immoderate for my shallowness
i only applause for big explosions
slapstick is the one i like the best

more on the eyes, less on the head
that's me.

Why do I write?
Why expect anyone to read?
Perhaps I want to help,
but am I the right choice?
/
Am I right to have confidence?
Should I lack it instead?
Am I a Frost, a Poe,
or someone forever unknown?
/
Will this ever be discovered?
Will my private thoughts become public?
If they are private, WHY am I still writing?
Do I want people to know?
/
Help me.