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your love is toxic

my lungs collapsing

beneath the weight of such **** feelings

so much like a rock

abrasive and heavy

are the words that spill from your mouth

like a faucet of filth

the pressure building

bright red blossoms

like a blow to the face
Our backs hold stories
Not even the spine
On a book can handle
I'm weak
So why do you think that I can hold all this weight?
My legs are giving out
I'm falling to the ground
I'm surrounded by pain
I'm here but who's here for me
I give up
I need someone to save me
I'm tired of fighting
I'm tired of holding on to all this weight
I must let go
Too much weight for me to bear...
Absolutely nothing could set me apart from the rest of the world
But each and every thought of mine has unfurled
I cannot believe I could see before, my eyes are blurred
It's like being drunk in eyesight, all my words are slurred

There's nothing all that special about me, I'm not important
I do not mean to be insensitive, I'm just being blunt
I cannot see beyond my future, I see only a blank slate
Even if there's nothing there, it's such a tiresome weight

Absolutely nothing makes me special, not one thing
But I still cannot help myself, I find that I cling
The people who tell me I'm different are lying
I'm absolutely nothing, endlessly sighing

There are several burdening weights atop my shoulders
The mental weight is heavier than one thousand boulders
I can feel them slowly pushing me down
Soon enough, I'll have a mental breakdown

Absolutely nothing is all I'll ever be, let's face it
Forever I'll be here, suffering, I'll never quit
There's still something I'm missing, I'm positive
My thoughts and voice are holding me captive
XslyfoxX Nov 8
Oh to taste your love.
Oh to feel your warmth.

My bones break as I struggle to carry a persistent weight.
Pounds on my back, increase with each breath, every step I take.
I haven’t tried to bury my past and I fear its too late
I fear its going to last.
Can I be lifted to heaven?
Is it me or the baggage Im burying?
The bride of Christ but is it me or the pain you’re marrying?
Do you love me now? How could you?
Ive been mourning for years, no use pushing down tears.
The earth still turns, but Im still here.
Cherisse May Oct 27
one less spoonful.
i repeat, and eat less.
one less kilogram.
i repeat, and eat less.

as i look at my own reflection in the mirror,
as if to mock me,
it's all the same;
i am still not enough.

one less craving.
i say, as my stomach grumbles.
one less meal.
i say, as the bile comes rushing in, forcing its way out.

one less spoonful.
i say, as i head to the comfort room after a meal.
one less kilogram.
i say, as i force my fingers into my mouth, expelling the contents of my own stomach.
i need help.
Senti Mental Oct 17
All its weight is on my head

As I lie awake in my bed

Feeling I’d be better off dead

But that’s not what the doctor said

I get the feeling that he lied

To rid my tears and hush my cries

At the end of the day his hands are tied

Would it just be easier if I died?

To float up from the bed I lay on

And travel to whatever’s beyond

One final breath without yearn or long

And all of a sudden the weight is gone.
Old man with his Atacama tongue
dusting off stories of his youth
forty-nine knock outs he spattered out
heavy weight champion travelin' the world
stories of tribes auctioning off slaves
that they couldn't sell
that became that nights meal
pieces in a stew
how it could make a man cry and cry
oiling up trees so the lions
slide right off
tent births and baseball cards
a preacher neighbor who beat a woman
then had his teeth knock out
by the holy word
then points out his bird houses
only to dive deep into something else

"Old man" says I,
"I have to return to work
but next time I will save
your stop for last. There's
an oasis in that head of yours
and I tend to bask in it."
I cannot seem to find
what I am looking for
though I hold it in my hands
it has no shape or weight,
so senselessly existing
for reasons
I cannot fathom
whatever I see
I know it is
only half real
the other half
that's missing
is the part that I have yet
to touch, to feel
the hands are the eyes
of existence
translating the language
of a barren universe
we, Her great grandchildren
must be the ****
through which She gives birth
to everything
that we cannot see
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