i’ve always had an aversion to crowded spaces
it's not something i enjoy
and how can i
when my mind is crowded too
the more people that surround me,
the more i’m aware i exist
eyes meet mine and watch me as i move
i look away after that
so their hands can’t hurt me
and their hearts can’t love me
i fall back into the shadows
leaving one crowd, for another
self-sabotage, they call it
having no intention to change
always between two fires
getting burned either way
I’m drowning in ****
Spewing from my own ***
I’m in a fountain of it
I’m the figurehead vomiting
I’m not rude
I’m not crass
I’m telling the truth
Honesty ******* stinks
Especially when the reality is
That it’s your own ******* fault
Bleeding from the walls
I’m drowning in ****
Spewing from my own ***
How long until you catch
The stifling odor
The aroma of ****
Would you stick around
Would it be worth it?
Big ******* doubt
You’ll do a 180
And turn right the **** around
Running in the opposite direction
Because you found out
That I’m full
Next to me
I’m laying here
Soiled and soaked
When somebody will come along
When my **** stinks
Sorry if the gross imagery is a little overkill lol. Just had to get this one out. Off all my meds right now and my mind is a messy place to be.
I broke my back to climb a wall
Almost got to the top this time
Foot slipped this time
You grabbed my hand
Fingers tracing vines against my skin
And pushed me down to the bottom again
I broke my back in the fall
You don't know me -
not the real me.
You know my favourite movie
and maybe my favourite song.
You know what food I could eat every day
and you know about my first pet.
But you don't know me.
You don't know how much I want to tear my skin off my body
and become a whole new person.
You don't know how I self-sabotage
everything good in my life.
You don't know why I can't trust you
and you'll never know
my past or what's hiding
inside my mind.
Will I ever heal?
I can't listen to my music without a memory of you.
I can't read a romantic poem without thinking of you.
I can't stop accidentally re-opening the wound you left on my heart.
I can't stop the pain from flooding into my veins and out my eyes.
Can it stop? Will it stop?
The part that hurts the most is knowing
I don't even so much as flitter through your mind
Let alone your heart.
You are putting on a fur coat while watching your building burn down around you
Around your sweating body walls collapse in flame but you still won't jump out to be saved!
Waiting at the window with a trampoline
Waiting for you to get out of the scene
But I see you just look into the same horizon and stare
I guess you like the view from your window,
but soon you will burn down with it
don't save me
With the same pen and paper as the last love letter I wrote, I now write this.
Everyday he'll suffer in silence and I'll be content with the thought. The same hand that wrote loving words is the same hand that brought tears to his eyes.
Over betrayal and deceit hidden in plain view with a longing of decadence and validation.
He choose carefully, or so he thought - the wounded of the flock.
But he knew...somehow that I was different.
Unable to be read like a simple book, I am that of an enigma to most, alluring to others.
I could have loved that side of him -- the part unrestrained by persona. The damaged part, carefully tucked away.
But the beast must be fed by the tears of the innocent,
a pervasive pattern of loving women he made love him back.
He fed his soul with their sadness.
For he deceived them for proof of love and in it, he destroyed himself.
Day by day, he'll look at me and realize, like the last - he was wrong.
That someone had cared and someone was hurt, and that was not I.
And I am grateful -
for not loving a traitor.
To his own cause or mine.
Because every time he looks for validation in the tears of others.
I will not be there
and he will not find me.
Sitting at the bottom
Of the sun-kissing tower
I hear you crying for help
Could I make a suggestion?
Stop cutting your hair
And blaming the scissors
Instead of your own hand.
if I can't think what
the problem can be
well, then it just has
to be me!
even if no problem at all
imagination jumps in
kicks me right in the shins
from there a mountain will grow
out of a tiny mole hill, oh woe!
I know this is something I do
I remind myself it's nothing new
yet my senses seem to dislodge
finding ways to my own sabotage.
it's deep in my heart and my mind
a solution I'd sure love to find
to a problem that this time I know
is definitely me...without doubt.
My foot looks like swiss cheese!
I feel full with empty guilt
Every second I waste is a dagger
It stabs me so I'll spill crimson
Sparkles shiny, watches me stagger
I start to stumble and I'll fall
Let the blood dry black
Then I'll nurse my silver blade
Slam it down and feel my bones crack
Guilt can push us further than we can reach