tw; self-harm, suicide, a whole ass emo serenade of my life, you know, poet shit
a song so dreary and full of gloom i break out my own casket, pick my own death blooms and blood-red roses to bury myself under
take me apart and put me back together again
soon the beetles will come spilling from my mouth
shiny with little iridescent wings
I'll tell you everything you want to hear
I'm fucked up that way, didn't you know?
i have been caving in on myself since day one
a real piece of shit with nothing left to lose
well, maybe i have a lot to lose but not many fucks to give
maybe love just wasn't for me
I'm too much to love anyway
i look like a melted icecream cone,
sticky and sweet and a mess, dripping all over the concrete on a hot summer day just to be wasted, the bugs feed on me and the world continues to move and sway and simmer with the heat of all the little somethings that i could have done but didn't do because i was too scared
too selfish
god, i should have stayed.
it's all my fucking fault. i should have never left that fucking house. it was a prison and i fucking escaped by sacrificing everyone and everything i had ever loved. everyone says that it was a good thing for me to leave, to protect myself...but who was going to protect them if not me? if i had stayed, things would be different. maybe i would be suffering, maybe i would be six feet under with slashes so deep you could see the bone on both arms but god at least i could say i tried when i walked up to the pearly gates before i was sent below.
maybe there was no hope for me anyway, ya' know?
I'm not doing enough. Nothing I do is enough. I am just wasting away. There are so many things i cannot do. I cannot concentrate. I cannot eat. I cannot sleep. I cannot stay awake. I cannot answer the fucking phone. I cannot send replies regularly. I cannot look at myself in the mirror. I cannot shower every day. I cannot brush my teeth every day. That fucking house haunts me, and I hope that son of a bitch burns down to the ground.
just give me my mom back, please.
just give me my family back, please.
just fill the gaping hole in the center of my chest with cement, please.
the weight of the world is there again, ever-present and sinking between my shoulderblades like i still made of the clay god suddenly hates because i like everything with or without a dick, like i am not flesh and bone and all the metal I've been tacking on for the last nineteen years to protect myself but it just weighs me down even more
I'm carrying jupiter on my fucking back while sinking into the ocean.
i can't bear to look at my text messages because there are people that care about me, and i know I'll just let them down like everyone else in the world. the world is better off without me, and it always has been. i have been nothing but a fucking blot of ink on the tapestry of life since i was five years old.
anything holy in me was a figment of my imagination, it must have been, because i am not worthy of anything, especially love.
especially forgiveness.
even my own.
