You are so much more

didn’t appreciate you as much as one might
And maybe you might want to blame me
And I hope you do because it is my fault

It is not your fault that you let me in and I couldn’t keep my door open enough to let your light in

It is not your fault that you felt so deeply for someone who makes webs out of people and fights to weave through it when the person packs up and flees

It is not your fault that you are choosing happiness over heart ache, if anything, isn’t that more rewarding than going to bed wondering whether someone is going to leave or not?

You are a strong light, not just a strong shoulder for those who can’t always feel.

You are not a sponge even if it seems like you just keep soaking and your heart keeps growing

You are not the broken promises used to build you up and destroy you lower

You are not the pain you feel or the people who try to take your good things away

You are you, you are yourself, you are a good person

You are doing what’s best for you and you will get through

To you, CinFox.

I see, or so I thought I saw
Something less but something more

I saw, or so I think I saw
Something more out of something less

And I saw what I see now and I see what I saw then
Out of something less came something more

Graved Truths

I’d be lying
If I didn’t try
To tell you the truth
About wanting to lay down
Inside and stew
In my own grave

I’d be lying
If I spilt but didn’t cry
Whenever I needed to escape
This headspace cave
Built from nothing

Hospital Corners

Like a hotel, our bodies are being rented out                                                   temporarily I squander around                                                                                       for rooms that aren’t occupied                                                                                       but every spot is no longer vacant.

As I round the corners, slightly folded                                                                   into eachother like a hospital bedsheet                                                                       I realize that I don’t have Schitzophrenia                                                                 but I have conversations with people who aren’t there

Are they? Maybe they’re all the versions of myself talking to people they used to know.

Ghost-like Carrier

Slipping in and out of conciousness all the while being awake at the same time                                                                             just running out of space, perametre is smaller than the waiting line

Abruptly woken up by an alarm, watching the surface crack                                                                                                           snapping of the mouth, walking through the marsh

Our souls are just ghosts carrying around a lifeless corpse

Situated Corpses.

I finally jumped onto the Twenty One Pilots band wagon and am writing this post while listening to:

Car Radio – Twenty One Pilots

“I run off before I even push them away. I try so hard to solidify myself to situations.. to my own state of being but im a ghost carrying around it’s own corpse. ”

I feel as though everything seems to be a matter of ” trying ” mostly because I over think and under think.

I think too much, but I also hardly think before I speak because my mind is constantly racing, tracing the constant circles that I ahve created cycles within.

My head keeps falling while my body stands tall and weak waiting for the exact moment that my mind will match it’s lively hood.

Crawling, sprawling out amongst the fields of my sprouting memories, dampening Nostalgia.

Induced preventions

Ranting, screaming through my fingers but for some reason there is a block

Where, when why are there so many things stopping me, i’m allowing them to stop me, prevent me from simply waking up from my zombie-induced body bag

Simply trudging, walking, running through the subway tracks, hoping they’ll cave in and I’ll fall off the brink, edge shattered, sharp.

Just finding my way through the slow dancing legs the trees are waving to me, at me.