Sinking,
back into my mind,
being left alone with my thoughts and,
it's not what I wanted.
I wanted warm, soft sleep,
and sandwiches,
and sunshine,
and ice cream,
and photographs filled with light,
and nights filled with ideas and inspiration,
but what I got is,
nightmares with a dry throat and a ton of guilt,
emptiness,
fear of numbers,
a grey tint giving me a bleak output and a hand down,
a cloud,
hanging over my brain,
shrouding it.
I just can't seem to think properly.
And you,
you lift it;
for a moment, I get to feel right,
I get to forget it and sink into you.
The odd flash reminds me, but,
I am at home with you,
and sometimes
just sometimes,
I am perfect.
And this is why I don't like it when we have to leave each other,
because my brain hurts,
and my stomach aches,
and the warmth in my body seems to disappear.
I fold up,
collapse,
fall in on myself.
Some days I am okay,
but being alone is harder than it used to be.
You make colours brighter and feelings stronger and I don't know how you do it,
but I wish I could learn how.
I just need to keep busy.
Your love
seeping through the broken parts of my mind
trying to close the cracks
to fill the pieces that are void of sanity.
Secrets are meant to be kept
but I can't hide from you
and I can't lie to you
hurling out what's meant to be left alone
and it was more than ever before and it was easy.
The days are so hard having to feel this when I go over the numbers
that I set for myself
and I feel like I am being paraded around like a bad example for myself.
I can't bear the things that show me the truth
but I can't stop looking
and all I want to do is get the fuck away from myself.
I ruined myself, and I want to gain control again,
and by this, I will ruin myself a second time over.
I can't sleep because of the burning feel of failure.
The lack of control I have shown myself.
It chokes me.
It devours me.
I am so weak.
The numbers are sinking in again.
Sometimes the pangs are enjoyable.
I can’t stop looking at fragility, and the punishments have returned.
It’s hated, it’s welcomed; it’s taking over, and I can’t help but love it.
The total is all-important.
I know what it feels like to be wrecked by it, and I want it. I want to be consumed by it, and I guess that shows that I already am.
The sun lights up the leaves like fire: it’s so beautiful to be burning.
Not quite all right,
I wanted it so much,
but then unwanted actions,
and it wouldn't stop,
only moving from where it wasn't wanted to shut me up,
dirty fingers covering my mouth,
an undesirable request,
and an inbuilt urge to continue to the end.
Softly softly,
burning from the inside,
choking on the ash that is filling up my airways,
cracking,
spilling,
blood onto the carpet,
I'll open up my insides,
clawing for my heartbeat.
Tearing, wearing,
smiles instead dark clouds,
nightmares and ideas eating up my sunshine,
pressure,
fire,
fraying at the edges,
I'll scream into the darkness,
but it won't get any brighter.
The sound of your voice,
filling up my mouth with words that I can savour;
your bright eyes shining with sincerity,
sometimes I forget,
I let it blaze through me,
sometimes the words get stuck over your tongue and come out all wrong,
uncomfortable fires set alight for a second,
exhale them more clearly and I should have already known.
You're soft like the earth,
invaluable,
all-encompassing warmth.
Things get misinterpreted,
and feelings burn, tangle, are misunderstood.
You take a piece of me and carry it with you.
Do you feel it circulating in your veins,
almost making your heart burst, like I do?
