This entire house feels unstable
My life is shaking
As are my hands
Nothing is certain
Nothing is safe
Why... why doesn’t home ever feel safe?

A shade of blue
Can plague the mind
A shade of green
Can turn the kind
A shade of red
Can break the stable
And yet...
A shade of yellow
Won't break the many
So many hues
And yet we don't see them all.

When my world turned upside down,
And it seemed all forces were against me,
I thought you were the one thing stable,
Something I could cling to blindly.
But instead you are the feet
That have shaken the foundations loose.
You are the winds,
Ripping years of roots from the ground.
I thought you were stable
In my world of instability.
But instead,
You are the world.

I’m aware that I’m unstable,
In every sense and way,
that I bring nothing to the table,
so it’s not something you have to say.

Cause I wake up every morning,
in a paralytic state,
with cautionary warnings,
willing my emotions wait.

My therapist says things,
like “post traumatic stress”,
trying to unwind the strings,
that’s a tangled ******* mess.

Stop giving me labels,
while I’m paying out your dimes,
if you can’t fix what’s broken,
then don’t waste my ******* time.

So let’s say I’m dishonest,
and I haven’t told the truth.
Let’s say I’m being modest,
about all my self abuse.

I’m a ******* contradiction,
and I’m lying to myself.
Wishing for a benediction,
while I pull whiskey off the shelf.

I battle with depression,
but that doesn’t mean a thing,
and answering your questions,
doesn’t suddenly give it wings.

You need to let me be,
and let me tell you why,
because there’s someone else inside me,
and he wants to watch me die.

He’s the one that breaks,
everything you fix,
and he’s the one that takes,
and gives those strings a mix.

The devil lives inside me,
and he likes what he found,
and he’ll scream like a banshee,
till I’m six feet under ground.

Help. If that is a question,

and quests are journeys from here to there and back,
again.

If and. A state of hesi oddness,
yes,
we exist in spite or spirit of
our creator, eh?
The craftsman's due.
Muzzle not the ox that treads the corn.

Pay the piper, if ye dance, ye know ye did.
No need to lie and say you know better,

you became more like yourself as you aged,
who made you be you?
Who do you think you are?

Aha, Pinocchio, Punch 'n' Judy… no, no Stepford
wife, but a reason for the wish, clown collector meet my
Curio store clown,
Kohari,

Can we handle a different true?
Kohari, looks you in the eye, a god message,

come up the ladder,
tell me no lie, or I
shall laugh out loud in your face, you don't know

squat, dung, **** brings stars to your ai
respectible eyes,

but this is the medium, the way, so to say, we came to
help
get past actual standing under knowns,
and begin walking into the rest
that remains to be known,

by those who see by faith invisible things form
into substantiated realms of sensation,
sense, common,
is felt known
--- safe here, asif
no miles to go,
this were home, and sleeping, now,
is safe.

Every-time he hits me
Every-time he leaves a bruise
I feel like I´m losing it
I don´t cry
I don´t make a sound
I don´t say a word
not because I don want to
but because he seems to enjoy it more when i scream or cry