Vent art, poetry, and just... vent

Human, i think

Your daily trigger warnings (TW): Unreality, death, delusions, self destruction, repeated phrases, descriptions of blood + bodily harm, stuff like bugs and rot and decay

A/N: sorry for nøt uploading in awhile. Got locked out of my account for a bit

Falling from one body to the next
Cycling from one world to the next
His emotions slip from one dimension to the next
He is infinitely finite
He is clustered and nothing
A void of spite and colors
A destructive force of god, a destructive force of gravity

He wakes up in this life confused
He wakes up in pain
He is not human
That's not his purpose, he's not made for this

He's in pain, he's lost
He's gone, he's ready to die
The dark, the light, the grey and the sun
I can't believe anything
He is so, so lost
He is forgotten and dead
He is gone, he doesn't want to love

He doesn't know, he doesn't want to

Do you remember that office?
Desks, chairs, walls
It was a bleak job, a mind grinding experience
You didn't remember how you got it
You were an experiment, nobody understood
That's who you were
An employee, a miserable being
Human, or something of the sorts
Pencils, stacked, pencil sharpeners
Numbers over and over, nobody spoke, nobody talked
They were puppets
They were victims, mind controlling twisted thoughts

I guess he doesn't matter
Heart thumping in chest, mind racing
Everything goes black
Everything goes black
Everything goes black
Everything goes black
Everything goes black
Everything goes black
Everything goes black
Everything goes black

He cries out one last time
Before he dies
He dies
Again and again and Again and again and Again and again and Again and again and Again and again and Again and again and Again and again and Again and again and Again and again and Again and again and Again and again and Again and again and Again and again and Again and again and Again and again and Again and again and Again and again and Again and again
Endless, shifting
Agonizing

Sometimes he just lays there
In the void
No body, he's just there
Disconnected from everything
It all hurts, it all burns
It all feels so bleak
Just like that office, gray walls and black computers

Do you think they even noticed that he died?
That he was gone?
Mary? Stanley? Marille? The other one? Jack?
No, I don't think they did
He's gone, he left
They couldn't see him, they couldn't find him

He digs his nails into his skin and hair
Blood dripping down his clothes and off his skin
He cries from the pain maybe, or more likely he can't feel anything
The bugs crawl in and the rot seeps out
Splatters onto the cold ground

He's stuck here
In limbo
In hell
Maybe these memories will find him someday
He's so mature for his age after all
He's sooo mature

Such a odd thing right?
What we do for blood?
For justice?
Us "humans" really have skewed morals.