I hate when I lose my cool
Let my crazy show Bits and pieces slip through my cracks Otherwise carefully kept below A world of chaos hides behind eyes Beyond my skin Nobody suspects the battlefield That sets stage within My neck hurts from holding up weight Of thousands of mental disputes Neurons connecting in my brain And nervous system in cahoots Around so much ruin each day Anxiety running my soul Fracturing under pressure I snap I lose control
The worst insult you can say to me is "you're crazy"
Something inside is
It's almost going to There aren't words for the pull about to Snap Unknown explosion Without explanation Not sure how to loosen the threads it's Breaking What to do Who's taking the bullet My fault my bomb it doesn't turn off sorry It's going to hurt me more then it already hurts you
Music usually helps. Writing nonsense helps more.
never met a soft-button girl,
one I could keep in my pocket, could fasten my shirt, keep my jeans up, on my hips. never met a soft-button girl before, only nylon string and elastic, no good for stitching up wounds, only good for lacerations— she snapped, again.
Shackled, and chained.
Yet, I’ve never felt so free. You’ve awakened this primal instinct in me. Burned, and bruised. Tormented, and used. I'm yours to abuse. I kneel, At your feet, Waiting for command. Waiting for the slightest gesture granted from your hand. I look down. My hands in lap. l am at your will, Waiting for your finger’s snap. With hair pulled back-- Gathered in your hands. And cheeks warm-- Caressed by your voice. Lips are wet-- Touched by yours. Cleaning, and cooking. Almost every day. Folding, and preparing. Doing whatever you say. I'm yours; I'm branded with your name. I'm bonded to you, No matter what, And I stand unashamed.
My voice is not a font
My face is not pixelated My life isn’t a snap My emotions aren’t emoticons My love isn’t a tap My compliments aren’t comments I am not down there, but up here .
What’s your endgame plan? You snap your fingers And I melt in your hand Ashes to ashes Dust to dust I wish I Could rescue us
Avengers Endgame was so good!
It’s hard to be your own person,
to move your singular body in its own direction, when every corner is already crowded by other thoughts. Your limbs brimming with self-loathing again, brilliant. Bubbles of spit boasting as they frame your thirsty lips. You’re picking blood-stained fingernails with yellowing teeth that never knew the curling cradle of a smile. At a loss for embrace, Fake hair plastered by stained sweat to your forehead. There, in the hollows of your forehead, permanent lines appear prematurely, paving the way for the end of your rabbit hole, spiraling. Head so full of heavy thoughts that your necks snaps.