Twisted Eyelids

I can feel my thoughts
catching on my gums
every time I chew on
words that keep
getting caught underneath
my tongue
and it’s uncomfortable

I can see my own eyelids
from the inside
twisting images
and squeezing the memories
out onto my skin
drip drip dripping
all over my veins

I can hear my brain
spinning on top of my
spinal cord
turning around
like a carousel
only my skull is
the seat that my sanity
is sitting on
as insanity controls the speed

Pew

I used to sit behind you
staring at you until
the pews looked like they were on fire

In reality, it was my brain that was swelling with flames
flames that you started
flames that you fueled and then walked away from

I used to wonder if you destroyed others like you stole me
stole parts of me
stole my weakest parts

I am who I am today, but not because of you
but because I stopped, dropped and rolled away from you
like the teachers taught us to do when we were engulfed in sparks

Complaint Caves

I shouldn’t complain
because I could be worse
but my worse keeps getting worse

and my best is alightly my best
and I’m struggling to part the clouds instead of laying on them

Can I just stop fighting my brain and let the sides of my skull naturally cave in?

Deleting and making a new blog.

To my followers and anyone who comes across this.

I have had this blog for I believe 4 or 5 years now and when I first made it, I used my legal first name as my url and I want to get away from that.

I’d hate to lose my followers, but I want to make a new blog and move all of my writing over to it.

I will make another post with my new blog url when I make one.

Thank you to all of you who have stuck with me since the beginning and thank you to all of my new readers.

 

Fueled Masochism

2 Minute Poetry

From the beginning, never crossed my mind more than twice
Something strong resignates within me
Veins blocked on their way to my mind

Masochist at best, very least the pain I need
to fuel me even if I wish it wouldn’t
Slaying the prey before I break myself

Walls go up as they fall down, one two three four
I’m not coming back through the wall
Five Six Seven Eight, wondering when I’ll set myself straight

I’m not here, I’m not even in my right mind
but who’s to say which one’s from left
Detouring through my life like a van with very little gas
Chipped wheels

Chaotic Technicality

Music I listened to while typing this poem out:

Without You – Oh Wonder

I didn’t want to push, rush the chaos                                                                     Oh good old chaos, destruction                                                                           reconstruction of this mind digging torture

You know, no one can drill in                                                                                 deep where there is only surface now                                                                       so get chipping away

Use your best tools and your latest techniques                                                 mine are so old and as concrete                                                                                     I don’t worship things anymore                                                                               but I like the idea that I’m already                                                                           creating a home for myself

After I leave this dreaded head space                                                                           I walk around so weak and I used to                                                                     appear quiet because I didn’t want                                                                     people to know about me

Now I trudge around dragging my demons                                                       along my skin for people to see but                                                                             I don’t bother with quick answers

Conversations, I love those. Intellectual                                                             spill your cries and what makes you cringe.

I live for what’s holding people back so                                                                     I can compare my pain I need out,                                                                             so maybe stop digging now and                                                                               just throw yourself ontop of me                                                                             while my body sleeps and                                                                                         soul drifts towards the bottom

Love Friend.

I’d write this in the form of poetry, but this isn’t really poetic.

This is about a boy, maybe that’s a cliche way of starting a blog post, but this is genuine and I don’t really care about how cliche or not this is.

He’s not just a last resort, and if he is, I usually tell him. I feel like I can be so honest with him and if I find myself lying, I always tell him. I think he understands why I do that, not that lying is an excuse. I haven’t lied to him in a long while.

It’s nice how when him and I go a while without talking, our conversations can start back up again, whether it’s reminising about the past, continuing an unfinished subject, or starting a new journey together. I’m not in love with him, but I feel a sense of love towards him and for him.

Maybe I’m lonely, but I’m lonely in general and for some reason, sometimes I seek him out more than even he or myself even knows.

I find myself wanting to tag him in random posts, but sometimes I’m worried he’ll see them and think ” Uh, why would you tag me in this? what does this post even mean in regards to me? “. Or that I’m being pushy and annoying with how I feel.

I care about him, and I remind him way too much.. atleast too much in my eyes, but I actually do. I care and sometimes when I tell him that I love him, I need to know myself that I do. I just want himto know that even though i don’t understand his mind sometimes, or the particular situations he’s experiencing, that I’m here and I haven’t left entirely except times when I’m almost disassociating in general or closing off and isolating myself from him and people in general.

I find that I usually close off when I feel like I’m being ovr affectionate and overwhelming.

But I’m glad he’s there, and my intentions with him are more good than bad.

( Maybe you’ll read this some day bue )

Instability has become Stable to me.

Song that I am listening to while writing this post.

10,000 Emeral Pools – BORNS

” Instability has become stability to me. ”

I’m so used to my moods going from 0, being numb to 100, being almost high on life within a few seconds.

I create chaos when there is no chaos to be seen, or it’s difficult to come across because when my mind is consistantly stable, I feel the need to split all of the good parts of my brain into tiny miniscular pieces and I try to glue them back together with feelings that don’t match up.

Like a vase that has been dropped a thousand times and repaired 6 times.

Depressing Haunts.

I feel so alone, even though I have people around me sometimes. I just want to push everyone away. My old problems are starting to hit me like a brick again. Not that they stopped haunting me, they were just hovering.

I have a job.. part time, I longboard almost every other day, I try to read once in a while but sometimes my lack of attention span gets to me, I want interaction with my friends, but life is slowly draining me again.

I want to talk. I want to be there for people, but sometimes I just can’t even be there for myself, you know? I have hopes. I have dreams…. but they’re becoming more broken and I haven’t chipped away at them as much as I could have.. should have… the should haves are getting to me.

I could be worse… my problems aren’t as bad as some people’s, but that doesn’t make me any less valid, does it? People tell me I am valid, but I don’t feel that way sometimes.

I’m losing myself more and more everyday. I wish I could write more often, but I keep running out of words. It’s hard to transfer all of my feelings into words. This entire time for years, I thought I was writing what I was feeling, and sometimes I was and do write about how I feel.. but it’s usually how I think I feel. I didn’t realize that until therapy.

I hate that my therapist is away until near the end of August.. I just started getting back into therapy because I stopped going. I thought I could handle being alone… being without help… but I have a difficult time.