I need her to love me,
But I do not want to love her,
I only want her sensation, impermanent.
Oh how sick I have become!

I can't say these words I want to say. They lump in my throat and I am forced to swallow them once again. Why can't I say them? They are just words after all. I can't say them to you or anyone else. Not even a whisper of them to myself. So I keep them locked up in my head where they swirl around making me dizzy. Being dizzy on your own words is the worst kind of dizzy. A fog clouds your mind. In this fog is the words you want to say, along with possibilities of the replies you would get from them. The conversations swirl and swirl until your sick. Sick of the words. Sick of yourself. Sick of the world. Don't swallow your words until your dizzy, sick. Until your head and heart hurts from all that you can't say. All the possibilities of what could be because of those words. Don't become dizzy, sick.

The child coughed as he felt his heart hammer away in his chest. He stared at the window and saw a beautiful lady in a black dress come down from the window. She smiled at him as she knelt by the bed. Softly she whispered, it’s time Henry. She moved her gray hair out of the way as she carried Henry. He looked to the bed and saw himself lying there sleeping. He looked at her puzzled, what about my mommy? She looked at him and smiled sweetly as they started to float to the clouds. Don’t worry Henry, she said kissing his forehead, i’ll come back for her soon.

No one actually likes my writings.
They just want me to take off the mask.
Im sick of the lies behind smiles.
And I know they’ll just keep coming back.

So take your scummy words cloaked in compliments, and walk the other way. I want to be liked for my art, not the person you know face to face.

the sickness
is returning.
i didnt infect myself this time though
you passed it to me
through your fistfuls of my hair
through the "i love you's"
all the contradicting lies
my body became weak
and you took hold
of something you knew i had no control

there isnt a cure for this one.

The cough in my throat turned into a sandpaper burning sensation,
and yet I sang so loud today that someone complimented me.
Nothing will keep me silent, but I know you want it.
Every cough is an abrupt clap of the vocal chords:
that's what a voice teacher once told me,
and I can feel how right they are every time I cough
and feel like my throat is burning and bleeding all at once.
I want to not do anything with my throat except sing,
not cough, not breathe, not swallow,
just sing, loud enough that you can't help but hear.

Hanging off my little necklace
Come back to ashes
Cause i'm so sick of this place
Troubles get ready to chase
But i'm not pretty sure to face