Monday, March 12, 2007
You haunt me everywhere I go. These thoughts they drive me insane. The same familiar scent, but on my classmate's body. I hate coming home, because all I seem to do is stone and think of how fucked up I am. How fucked up i've let myself spiral into this well of familiar darkness where there's only black and grey. No ounce of purity. Just these demons that dwell around me. Ghost of you, is all that I have left, , it's all that I have left of you to hold. I wake in the night to find there's no one there but me, and nothing left of what we were at all. Like I said, I don't want to need you if you don't need me. And now, I don't want to think of you if you don't think of me. I bet you couldn't give a flying fuck about me. Do you? No benefits of the doubt this time. But I admit I still think of you and I really wish I didn't because it gets worse every night. Countless bottles of bottled up feelings I keep inside that leave my face in a daze, so hollow and emotionless. I thank my friends for trying really hard to cheer me up. They do.. for a while. Until i start to sink into the quicksand that engulfs me from the inside out. The maggots, they feed on my heart, the leeches that suck my blood dry and the demons, like vultures, they pick at my soul. What of my soul? Please don't worry too much. It only hurts when I breathe. Smiling on the outside, I hurt beneath my skin. My eyes are fading, my soul is bleeding, I try to make it seem okay, but my faith is wearing thin. It's not your fault, the well of thought and trust has run dry. Don't be afraid to let go. Don't be afraid to start over when it's over. Let go of feelings, let to go compromise. Hollow trunk of shelter, so dark and cold inside. I always find myself here alone, jaded shell of being, porous as a stone. Calloused, rigid, empty because of you, Let go of trusting, lost thought for family. Let go of living, no more concerns of demise. I never seem to find rhythm of life's harmony. Contorted, twisted, broken without a reason. Hope is out of season. |
My Curse ![]() Suricide Suicide 2 April '89 Equestrian Sports Painting Lomography Bass Guitar Floorball Constants are Changing Skinny black jeans A cute Hedgehog Forego Porta Trace Light Box "MODIFY" DVD Flaming cherry tattoos on hips Unholy Confessions Kiss me |