I cannot quite articulate
the inescapable frustration
that you are to me.
i adore you.
𝘐 𝘈𝘋𝘖𝘙𝘌 𝘠𝘖𝘜!
i adore you-
BUT 𝙄 𝘼𝙈 𝙏𝙊𝙊 𝙈𝙐𝘾𝙃 𝙁𝙊𝙍 𝙔𝙊𝙐!
AND I SUPPOSE LATER ON
i will cry
my stupid
eyes out.

This noise around me
It's more than I can bear
It's too loud
It's too busy
All I want is to be alone

This noise around me
Is all I ever hear
The chattering of a bird
The screaming of a child
They fill up my brain

This noise around me
Is suffocating. All I know
Is that I can't breathe,
I can't swallow,
I can no longer hear myself

This noise around me
It takes up too much space
There is no room for me to move
No room for me to live
It takes up every empty pocket in me

This noise around me
Is inside me. Loud and incessant
The sounds are my own
The voices are my own
But I simply can't rid of them

This noise inside me
It's more than I can bare
It's too loud
It's too busy
All I want is to be alone.

Truly alone
With the darkness
And silence.
Alone with no noise.
All I want is to be at peace.

you’re happy,
until you’re not.
you want to breathe,
until you don’t.

we come out of the womb,
innocent, joyful, excited for the prospects
Of a whole new world.

But it only goes downhill from there.

we experience:
loss, trauma, pain, depression.

you’re enamored,
until the true feeling of life sets in.
you want to live everyday over and over,
until your days are filled with more agony than happiness.

we begin life with a fresh, clean plate.
and each day we live, this plate is sullied.
sullied with the pain we experienced that day.
we try to scrub it off, but no matter how much you work at it, there will always be remnants.
you may ask, what about the joy?
the joy,
that gets covered up by the stains of pain,
As if it had never happened in the first place.

you’re curious,
until you don’t care anymore
you’re getting through, day by day
until you just can’t anymore.

let me float
with the swells of your mood
and the smells of your tiny apartment
breath you in
out
as we sit cross legged on your
sagging sofa
summers afternoon is drawing in
to a confine
and I am claustrophobic.

Stuck in a secret safe haven
That shakes with anticipation
aches with adoration
resonates your thunder.

Mushrooms and tiny pops,
Fungus growing deep inside,
Its too much, too loud.

Sometimes I go too  deep in my writing for others to understand
It's too much for them to take in
I'm not looking for praise
Or for money
But for expression of myself and others
So, they can relate and understand
That some of us go through things that only a dark fantasy can describe
And I'm sorry if its too much

Am hurting and cold.

And thinking, "maybe i shouldnt share and check feelings for a while again."

Take a little break.