Monday, May 4, 2020

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The simple thought nobody knew about

                                                Who is the real me?

                                                                                           The one who laughs at the person while they mentally struggle

   the one who tortures themselves mentally

                                         the one who is scared, traumatized, alone

Neither do I know the answer, because a lot of people live in one person

                                                                                                                                They tell each other bedtime stories to kill themselves

They talk in a...normal people language

                                                                                    A string of thoughts come oozing out of the fractured brain

             Bits and pieces of bone crumbling as I ate my own skull

                                                                                                                                               I ate away at my own skin, my own flesh

                     I drank away my own hopes and dreams, drowning them

with meds that will never heal you

                                                                                         I continue to eat at my moldy brain

        Rotting away in my own home

Friday, January 24, 2020

Morphine Fog

Pieces of my brain, all numb on its own
It's daylight all day
Stuck in the same cycle
My own ambitions nothing but bone

Everyone has their own cap
Some die with the surface broken
Some slow down after that breaking point
And become ensnared in their own flytrap

Not yours to blame, being the last person
To help me for days
And then finding me cold-blooded
That's why help refused: situation not worsen

Let me heal my own scars
And fail again
The sense of suffering is intriguing
I've become mesmerized in venom's stars

The Weeping Wendigo

The bare flesh trembled
Oh how lonely you are
Your friends lie there, crumbled
The life and dreams, left as a memoir

Hearing you cry, crying at night
Crawling, screaming at my door
I looked into your rotten eyes, so bright
The old you, the happiness, not there anymore