Every lover was a different song

On expansion

like putting out a flame before it has a chance to spark 

Modern life

Got us walking around in delusory states, constant consumption of artificial intake

Denial

The pain would split me in two if I let it. If I gave it access to my insides. Split me right open. Turn me inside out. Leave me no safe place to hide. I can feel it coming in around me. Closing in on me. I can feel it surrounding everything. When it feels hard to breath. When you turn the music up a little more loudly. All I know is suffering. I don’t want this suffering. All I know is suffering. Not this time. I won’t let you in. I won’t let you win. I don’t want to grieve anymore. I’m so tired of it. My body has dropped down on the floor, as I sit and write this. My body isn’t with me anymore.

Don’t take in so much noise that you drown out your own sound

I love you. I’m scared you’re going to die. And I’m scared that I’ll never say this to you before you do. I worry about being too dramatic. How pathetic is that? I worry more about being over dramatic— while you remain killing yourself every day. Playing Russian roulette with a crack pipe. Which line will be lethal? Which relapse will be the last time?

Love is re-birth

dirty laundry

Stains all over my clothes

Stains all over my soul

The seriousness of it all is starting to swallow me again

The sadness is deceiving me again

I’m being consumed in my own me-ness again

The is-ness of everything

The everything-ness and the inevitable exhaustion