angels and hairline fractures. by kittykatz55, literature
Literature
angels and hairline fractures.
There's a lilt in the wind
but not behind these trees
sitting where the light can't
reach you.
Handshakes become fears
and smiles encourage stitches.
Even a three-legged table has no
anxiety
shame
unhappiness
when he lives.
He is with no attachment,
blind in the heart,
free of coffee stains and acetone.
Anger.
Regret.
Tadpoles
writhe in the pond of my mind.
And as I stand behind my endless dreams,
I realize they were only
nightmares in disguise.
its so darkhere
so dark
here
i cant believe how
dark
it is
here.
really.
the water drown
ing my lungs
in
vad
ing
my mind
it's here
it's here
its
pitch.
She knows. She knows that she has done it, and it follows her. In the back of her throat, in her mind, her lungs, in her heart, her stomach. It's a heavyweight champ, but a fire wind ghost storming her diaphragm.
She has to escape it, like everything else.
People watch her. She watches herself. Mindlessness, yet abstract paranoia that they all talk about. Them. Them, those ones, the beasts, they follow her too. "Like a flower in the summer," she hears, distracted, ignorant, but never blissful. She doesn't understand why. She is not like them, not a monster, but not a human either; an angel in middle-earth hell.
Well, not quite a
angels and hairline fractures. by kittykatz55, literature
Literature
angels and hairline fractures.
There's a lilt in the wind
but not behind these trees
sitting where the light can't
reach you.
Handshakes become fears
and smiles encourage stitches.
Even a three-legged table has no
anxiety
shame
unhappiness
when he lives.
He is with no attachment,
blind in the heart,
free of coffee stains and acetone.
Anger.
Regret.
Tadpoles
writhe in the pond of my mind.
And as I stand behind my endless dreams,
I realize they were only
nightmares in disguise.
its so darkhere
so dark
here
i cant believe how
dark
it is
here.
really.
the water drown
ing my lungs
in
vad
ing
my mind
it's here
it's here
its
pitch.
She knows. She knows that she has done it, and it follows her. In the back of her throat, in her mind, her lungs, in her heart, her stomach. It's a heavyweight champ, but a fire wind ghost storming her diaphragm.
She has to escape it, like everything else.
People watch her. She watches herself. Mindlessness, yet abstract paranoia that they all talk about. Them. Them, those ones, the beasts, they follow her too. "Like a flower in the summer," she hears, distracted, ignorant, but never blissful. She doesn't understand why. She is not like them, not a monster, but not a human either; an angel in middle-earth hell.
Well, not quite a
The Holy Day.
Halleluiah. Saw Japan trip pictures today. Tore me apart. Tore the house apart looking for carbon monoxide to tear my brain apart.
I wish that Death would come so easily.
I deserve not being able to go. After five years of yearning, wanting, learning.... So badly. I used to think that if you wanted something bad enough, it would come to you. That is obviously a lie.
Optimism is a joke for the mentally unstable. It is possible for the strong willed and brave-hearted. I let myself go. I let my brain go. I let my heart go. I let my dad go.
To waste. To hell. A deeper hell.
Addiction. Dead.
I am now twenty pounds. It's square one.
"Everyone's gonna die. It's a natural part of life. But if life has no purpose, if you're dead already."
~Kiba, Wolf's Rain
Life isn't about finding yourself. It's about creating yourself.
I know I basically don't use this account. In short, things are not going very well for me right now. I don't think anyone is paying attention. But, if there's anyone out there who is reading this... let me know if you still want me to put my writing up. Or anything. If it matters.
I sure hope by now all of you have deleted me from your list and/or friend-ed my other account: (the actually good one,)
~flowerplz (https://www.deviantart.com/flowerplz) :iconflowerplz:
If not.... please do? I promise you won't be disappointed. :iconsadfaceplz:
Thank you kindly! ;)