Bad Birds ▪︎ Prose (1)

3. That day

As long as I can remember words were never enough for me to express what I am feeling wether it is pain anger or loneliness I find myself always scratching a plastic bag of emotions that couldn't be reached.

My hands dig those borders but I am so detached that I can no longer feel my fingers anymore or me. Everything is going so fast yet so slowly painful even for this wrong mind of mine and I can't. Couldn't. Take this after this day there's nothing to prove anymore to anyone because they now saw how worthless I am how incapable of doing the right moves when they should be done.
Still the thing is that my skin feels heavy of my bones my eyes reflect no more life, sparkles whatever you want to call it I just keep swallowing gulp after gulp of poisonous water feeling my limbs and dragging them across this bottomless pool of dull emptiness. Maybe I turned to be a part of it I don't know or have the power to.
I want to be achieved once and for all turned into flame, ice, endless time.

Anything that will give me the rest I dread to be fulfilled.

I keep writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing; nothing came of it not even a single drop of the hidden truth that loved my body so much it didn't leave it. Maybe I'll go with it far away where it should go and I am at this point where I reached the need to fantasize about true love much like the wish to go into neon to be a part of the aches that burned to create the Oblivion.

A kiss from that person balancing against that blade's kiss. His caresses on my back will equal the water stained in blood from my veins a delightful colour. A word falling out his lips the same my worthless person tear me down rebuild me up. The softness in the way he talks amuse me like death wispers behind me inviting me to take the step.
Deathlove Lovedeath they both kill they both release.

Maybe the lack of them is the reason behind my confusion but I'll welcome who ever comes first.