Catch a dying star
The bad thoughts set in when i'm in moods like this. When i'm left alone with myself on so many bad notes. The visions hurl through my head, across my eyes and the gulp in my throat gets bigger with each swallow.
Maybe i'm not like other writers, like Augusten Burroughs, because I simply can't write about the day to day shit that happens or why I feel like i do; what exactly got me here. The point is, is that I feel like this now. Doesn't matter why, it only matters what i'm left with. Not because of, or who for. Just.
Simply and scared.
Stupid and pathetic.
It's always wishing maybe...what if...
but the moment is the moment, the now the now, and I guess i've become a little too optimistic in times like these.
Fuck it.
I just want to know what to do with myself...how do I calm the rapid blood flow?
Temper. Rage. Red.
How do I occupy myself? What comes next?
What is the "happy place" i'm supposed to find? Where is the ventation...the okay to things? The solace? The clarity?
It's the trigger to the whole fucking fear in my head that i'll never be able to have any self control. And what of self comfort?
I'm crawling in my skin...it feels like there are ants all over me. I hate this feeling and I hate this energy. It's tainted adrenaline to do something fucking stupid.
And so what?
Apathy is just another set of this clockwork frenzy.
Bathe in it.
Breath it in...
No matter how bad it stings.
I guess some things will never change, as I always say.
I can hate everything all at once, because i'm used to it. The things that never seem to change or fade is the fact that i'll always blame myself.
"You deserve this."
I deserve this.
Self worth? I want comfort from the fact that i'll always feel I deserve nothing in a rainy situation. I don't create this fucking cloud over my head, but I still feel obligated to hold it there, like a balloon, for whomever blew the smoke to make the cloud.
It's just one step at a time I guess...
finding the core of the infection and where it started. But it's so close to gone, so buried that it's near impossible to untangle this knot.
It's like proving how the earth was created or where man came from.
Almost, but never quite there.
Not even picking apart the skin cells to my body would get me anywhere. It's useless research and pointless wondering. It's like asking, what came first, the chicken or the egg?
And although my little outbursts result in nothingness and vacancy...I still fear that i'm being eaten alive by the pesticides I take in, unknowingly, unaware.
Am I satisfied yet?
Not today.
It's raging curiousity and a dash of hostility. I just can't gather the bursting atoms in my body. Trapped. Exploding.
Unreachable.
Maybe i'm not like other writers, like Augusten Burroughs, because I simply can't write about the day to day shit that happens or why I feel like i do; what exactly got me here. The point is, is that I feel like this now. Doesn't matter why, it only matters what i'm left with. Not because of, or who for. Just.
Simply and scared.
Stupid and pathetic.
It's always wishing maybe...what if...
but the moment is the moment, the now the now, and I guess i've become a little too optimistic in times like these.
Fuck it.
I just want to know what to do with myself...how do I calm the rapid blood flow?
Temper. Rage. Red.
How do I occupy myself? What comes next?
What is the "happy place" i'm supposed to find? Where is the ventation...the okay to things? The solace? The clarity?
It's the trigger to the whole fucking fear in my head that i'll never be able to have any self control. And what of self comfort?
I'm crawling in my skin...it feels like there are ants all over me. I hate this feeling and I hate this energy. It's tainted adrenaline to do something fucking stupid.
And so what?
Apathy is just another set of this clockwork frenzy.
Bathe in it.
Breath it in...
No matter how bad it stings.
I guess some things will never change, as I always say.
I can hate everything all at once, because i'm used to it. The things that never seem to change or fade is the fact that i'll always blame myself.
"You deserve this."
I deserve this.
Self worth? I want comfort from the fact that i'll always feel I deserve nothing in a rainy situation. I don't create this fucking cloud over my head, but I still feel obligated to hold it there, like a balloon, for whomever blew the smoke to make the cloud.
It's just one step at a time I guess...
finding the core of the infection and where it started. But it's so close to gone, so buried that it's near impossible to untangle this knot.
It's like proving how the earth was created or where man came from.
Almost, but never quite there.
Not even picking apart the skin cells to my body would get me anywhere. It's useless research and pointless wondering. It's like asking, what came first, the chicken or the egg?
And although my little outbursts result in nothingness and vacancy...I still fear that i'm being eaten alive by the pesticides I take in, unknowingly, unaware.
Am I satisfied yet?
Not today.
It's raging curiousity and a dash of hostility. I just can't gather the bursting atoms in my body. Trapped. Exploding.
Unreachable.