dissonance

The river

I used to think going into the cold was nothing more than a fleeting moment

but the river felt cold in my body

it was around August and it felt freezing in the night.

I had been character assassinated online and I wanted to kill myself

the trees were quiet as I plunged into the water

I thought I'd die from hypothermia

but it is more about wanting to leave the country than anything else

it felt quiet

silence

and worry

but I was brave

but nothing happened

I suppose the moss scared me

or it was the guy following me with a camera

I went into the water and I held my breathe thinking either the coldness of this day or perhaps i'd catch something

it felt cold and pitch black

and the dark was rippling glow as the lamps glowed the night sky, the moon was out

it felt quiet

I didn't stay longer than I should of

I felt the coldness of the water was enough to scare me

it didn't feel like I had enough willpower

I went home after that and cleaned my converse and clothes

hearing the washing machine as it was around 3 am

nothing but peace

and my alarm went off

I felt alone in my comfortable myth of loneliness and love

I always hated her

But I kept it calm

But there was a time i lost contact with her at nineteen

It was ultraviolence shades of stark emerald purple

I finally found my independence

I loved the wildlife the most ,the dancing of the water and prescription meds and the bore of feeling of the sun, but I was always heavily suicidal

And it changed as I slowly missed home

I suppose maybe that's why i'm called that so evidently because of the horror of religious trauma

the echoing in another map point calling for me and my conscious , selfish in its pursuit for me , crawling and wheeping and scratching my hollowed walls

my philosophical self loomed in other places in Europe and Palestine, but never england and it broke me inside how violent the pathetic fallacy would reach me in a split second or in a movie starry eyed

my last photo was of a blonde wig//purple lights

its crazy to know how violence is of free will but not because of i'm knocking on heavens door

it can haunt you in a wake of flashbacks after you stop taking medication, or perhaps you've been left alone longer or it can haunt your future in a jolt of white light bulbs and carpet before you see a building going down the stairs awaiting your soul being written on a government documented list

it's a plane ride thinking its safe

awaiting the charm of presence, past and future chaining you to the now but never looking forward to a yearly annual state of conscious, they want me scared of the air or people

I wasn't afraid back then of going outside maybe I should of been

it was dark but when you're suicidal you tend to be more selfish but people were after me back then and it was too stressful for a mind that's always dark

Eve always talks to me in my mind, always there in the wind, the psychiatric stays like 2018 and at 23 her holding my hand like it was ghost she always haunts me

like the time she fixed my leg in a river of not my own choosing, asked if I was alright stitched my gun shot wound like she had the education as a doctor

pathetic fallacy "you look like you're in a camp, are you alright " things aren't easy one patient said but maybe she was honest

maybe i am in a version of that and no i'm not alright

I woke up from that spirit travel