Mockingbird.

That feel when you know something is about to royally fuck up.  You have no when or why of the situation.  Suddenly, songs that you hate for their messages begin to make a lot more sense,and you find yourself looking behind you, just waiting.  It catches up and whispers to you.  You'll never be enough.  They'll tell you that you are just to drop you, they want your confidence to shatter, they want to watch you bleed out. Who really wants what's best for you,  and who really knows?  It's all such a transparent sham sometimes....most of the time.  How can we look ourselves in the eye?  Where are the good things and love that we were promised as a child.  All we are.....incessant tugs to do the right thing, the wrong thing....or worse...nothing.  Everything about my life still mocks me..

Ouch.

Drowning in heat....
No sleep...

I guess I'm okay.

Demons are using my brain as a playground

Anxiety pulling out all my skeletons...
Leaving no stone unturned.

Bone deep pain

I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine....

I'll be fine....

Maybe tomorrow?

Replacement Parts.

You wore a mask til it merged with your face.
Thus, you were replaced
By that poisoned hollow shell.

Ghosting.....

Fleeting to and fro like your own hallucination.

My own nightmare slipping into conciousness.

Where did we go?

How did my past bring me this present?

What's in it?

Back to the Circus With You.

You only fooled yourself in the end
.....me for awhile
I couldn't hold you anymore
Your heaviness weighed in me...
Tried to carry yours and my own
....until they began to crush.

And I cried to a....
...fleetingly captive audience.

Come back to me
.....but it's too late, you're gone

Take your dogs and ponies with you too...
...only so much room in my pet parade.

Stand It.

Who can I turn to but myself, in my time of most need.
Who will understand my deep sorrow, who will carry with me?
Who will share my burdens. Who will give equal yoke?

I feel like it's all a reflexive joke.

Everyone wants what I have but they don't want me.
They latch, suckle me dry and leave me wanting.
Who watches o'er those who watch?
My back unprotected, stabbed once, twice, thrice and still I allow, and still I don't learn.  


The guillotine is home.  

The blood follows me.