I hear sirens going off in my head. A lot of deep hitting sirens.
I cant focus, I cant focus.
Im trying so hard to open my eyes PLEASEOPENMYEYES
but i cant
they're to heavy
and it hurts to talk about.
and the words hurt to say.
and no one hears them when they come out the wrong or the right way
and im dead
im dead
inside and out
decaying from the inside rotting on the out.
but im still here for everyone to watch, and gape and and worry about.
is if it helped
NOTHING FUCKING HELPS
QUIT TRYING TO HELP
I DONT EVEN HAVE A SENSE OF MY HEAD ANYMORE
TO WRITE
SOMETHING IS WRONG WITH ME
AND NO ONE WILL HELP
im trying to get help
im tried to get help
but no one would help
or could help
or should help
because this can be caught
its a sickness
its a disease
its leaving me broken and distraught
and ridden with lots of unanswered questions.
im thrust into a pit of despair where my body aches to feel the normal feelings of love again. of affection again.
but instead my emptiness surrounds me and devours me
and i dont even know myself enough to drag myself out.
because im not who i thought i was
i was never who i thought i was.
if this keeps going i want to die. i want to die because theres nothing worth living for
and im just taking up space for something else to be alive
to think
to love
to write.
god i cant even write anymore.
Friday, September 16, 2011
Sunday, April 3, 2011
[untitled]
I cannot write what my brain doesn't want. I cannot speak words my ears dont care to hear. And its in these moments I find it hard to breathe again. I never know when it's going to hit, or how hard, but it always does. And I feel strangled, and threatened. My words sound weak and wounded, and it's almost as if they've been waring away sitting in my bowls, as the stomach acid rolls and devoirs them whole.
And I feel lost, so so so so lost. I can't find my feet or my toes or my nose or my eyes. Its almost like a part of me went missing, and I don't know where it can be found.
And I keep being told that I'm young.
And I keep being told that I can stay stay alive.
But I don't feel alive. I don't feel like I'm living.
I just feel broken, with my tires sliding against the mud, and my feet slipping out from under me.
And I know that I'm falling, I can feel the wind shoving my hair down my throat. But I'll pass out before I die, never knowing what I missed, or what I wished I'd heard.
Because all those words that were stuck in my bowels, are now splattered on the pavement as a view, and image, for someone to glimpse upon, admire, and discard. Like the lowly serpent I am. Sliding deeper and deeper into this free fall plunge to whatever ends.
But like the sun warms my feet, there you'll go again. The unspecific you. The you you never knew you were, and I've never known. And you'll make my heart burn wild with love. With affection. With guilt. Because I never gave you the means or the words to feel the same burn. And I did it on purpose so I wouldn't have to see, or to learn or to hear that I was what was the worth of fighting this whole time. Of being and existing.
Those words that I kept in my bowels, that I never cared to hear. Broken and dispondent but still ringing ringing ringing ringing ringing in my ears.
They cannot hear, or see, or feel. They just know that you're there, wishing you were here, and keeping you as far away with those pleas of affection as I can muster. Because all those feelings, are lost within me, and to me. Never to be found. Never to be found.
And I feel lost, so so so so lost. I can't find my feet or my toes or my nose or my eyes. Its almost like a part of me went missing, and I don't know where it can be found.
And I keep being told that I'm young.
And I keep being told that I can stay stay alive.
But I don't feel alive. I don't feel like I'm living.
I just feel broken, with my tires sliding against the mud, and my feet slipping out from under me.
And I know that I'm falling, I can feel the wind shoving my hair down my throat. But I'll pass out before I die, never knowing what I missed, or what I wished I'd heard.
Because all those words that were stuck in my bowels, are now splattered on the pavement as a view, and image, for someone to glimpse upon, admire, and discard. Like the lowly serpent I am. Sliding deeper and deeper into this free fall plunge to whatever ends.
But like the sun warms my feet, there you'll go again. The unspecific you. The you you never knew you were, and I've never known. And you'll make my heart burn wild with love. With affection. With guilt. Because I never gave you the means or the words to feel the same burn. And I did it on purpose so I wouldn't have to see, or to learn or to hear that I was what was the worth of fighting this whole time. Of being and existing.
Those words that I kept in my bowels, that I never cared to hear. Broken and dispondent but still ringing ringing ringing ringing ringing in my ears.
They cannot hear, or see, or feel. They just know that you're there, wishing you were here, and keeping you as far away with those pleas of affection as I can muster. Because all those feelings, are lost within me, and to me. Never to be found. Never to be found.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Sure
There is such a thing as a sure thing. A thing your head or your heart can feel, and predict, and even guarantee.
Like the promise of hearing a song you've already heard a million times, and you know you'll only live to hear it one million more.
But the thing about a sure things, when another party is involved, with thoughts and feelings and wants, that thing that started out being so sure, suddenly becomes a maybe, perhaps, and ending with an I don't know.
I'd know a sure thing if I had one. Atleast my head knows that, it can tell what and whom I'm capable of having and harming.
But my heart, in an attempt to salvage itself and whatever pitiful peices remain, tells my head that every single one of those sure thoughts that I hold to be true, could not be. Ringing in doubts and questions making something that I was almost positive was true, into something thats only the sad shadow of what the truth could have been.
And I embarass myself, questioning these sure things. Because as soon as I'm no longer sure about the sureidness with which i had had, it seems that everyone can feel it, and breathe off of it. And find a way to independently function off of all the energy of my doubts.
And I'll catch myself in a free-spin fall back to earth, where gravity has surely done its duty to throw me into the grown with serious force.
And I wake up from the force of a sure thing, wondering what part of me I left up in the air and what part I took back with me, and was a sure thing really worth the risk at all?
Like the promise of hearing a song you've already heard a million times, and you know you'll only live to hear it one million more.
But the thing about a sure things, when another party is involved, with thoughts and feelings and wants, that thing that started out being so sure, suddenly becomes a maybe, perhaps, and ending with an I don't know.
I'd know a sure thing if I had one. Atleast my head knows that, it can tell what and whom I'm capable of having and harming.
But my heart, in an attempt to salvage itself and whatever pitiful peices remain, tells my head that every single one of those sure thoughts that I hold to be true, could not be. Ringing in doubts and questions making something that I was almost positive was true, into something thats only the sad shadow of what the truth could have been.
And I embarass myself, questioning these sure things. Because as soon as I'm no longer sure about the sureidness with which i had had, it seems that everyone can feel it, and breathe off of it. And find a way to independently function off of all the energy of my doubts.
And I'll catch myself in a free-spin fall back to earth, where gravity has surely done its duty to throw me into the grown with serious force.
And I wake up from the force of a sure thing, wondering what part of me I left up in the air and what part I took back with me, and was a sure thing really worth the risk at all?
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