given

it crawls against the skin in sweet delirium, the thought, the need, the nothing i can be…and words are real when held so close the breath is squeezed from them. if she were me how would the world fall apart? not that i don’t still love you, only that i cannot love myself when i’m near you

inspiration doesn’t come in waves of dizziness only in breaks of sanity…and the heartbeat echoes inside my ears of distant dreams lured away to someone else’s bed. i awoke to the racing in my heart as it slowed to a rhythm to which i am more accustomed. the knife cuts in with a similar pattern, creatures of habit, self-loathing, and neglect, we shake in the presence of the future be it near or far. and the tapping of these keys only signifies the loss of pen gently scraping paper…i miss that the most i suppose.

she breaks inside feels the organs shift so sharply that the pain is almost a vague belief in reality. her dreams are empty no skeletons dancing in her mind, lost memories try so hard to hold onto her, slipping through her like grains of sand…there are moments the world pauses in her presence and looks upon her as if her world should be everyone’s. but those moments pass and her eyes fall to the concrete watching in surreal thoughts as her steps push forward through broken hearts and lost souls.

she cannot love cannot need you will not give in

she cannot win

so why not give in?