i hate seeing my reflection - it is a stark reminder that i am here. the call of the void is always fleeting - how easy would it be to step in front of a bus? i struggle with coming to terms with this - even suicide is not an option, even dead i wouldn’t want the responsibilty of my own death on me.
do you know this dream? tied to a fence, barking. the mailman comes, afraid - he confuses your overeager friendliness with ill feeling. do you know this dream? the sun never goes away - your cratered imperfection never shows his face. do you know this dream? on her sleeve worn, you wear away. the wind never blows you straight - do you know this dream?
I’ve seen myself in the mirror. it’s one thing to acknowledge your existence, and another to question your place in the universe.
I sleep with the television turned on. While I scream, it drones. I don’t think I’ve watched a minute of it in the last three years though, I’m glued to my phone. We’re glued to our phones.
I don’t yell much anymore. Lack of living has beat the life out of me. I’d worry about what any of this means, but being chemically inbalanced means I’m prospectively challenged. So I don’t worry about it.
It is burning outside. I argued with the stars too much I think and now the sun wants to melt me. And I would let it, let it thaw the tiredness from my bones, let all of what I am seep through the cracks and dissipate like old ghosts confronted by the sunrise but instead I am burning on the inside.
So out of it - it’s a shame you had to learn to write their names down on skin, because paper was left for better things, for obituaries and weddings way past using, we’ve regressed into abusive but you don’t believe me when i say **** helps, sober i overthink the bigger picture, sober i don’t stop to smell the flowers